


Nowhere to Run

by beardyswrites



Series: Run [3]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Canon Universe, Childhood Memories, Cranks (Maze Runner), Depressed Newt, Extended Scene, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gladers, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Pre-The Death Cure, Protective Minho, Protective Newt, Redemption, Rescue Missions, Safe Haven (Maze Runner), Slow Burn, The Death Cure Spoilers, The Flare, Thomas has an idea, WICKED | WCKD is Not Good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25062019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardyswrites/pseuds/beardyswrites
Summary: Six months after his capture, the Gladers are relentless in their search for Minho, determined not to leave him behind as the remainders of what was the Right Arm prepare to leave for a seemingly mythical Safe Haven across the ocean.Their quest leads them into the heart of WCKD, where old friends and enemies alike will resurface as rallying forces rise up against the creators of the Maze Trials. But when the Flare catches them unawares, Lesley and her friends find themselves racing against the clock, time slipping through their fingers and the consequences unimaginable.If only they had a cure.
Series: Run [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1335577
Comments: 68
Kudos: 77





	1. Vengeance Rising

**Author's Note:**

> AND WE ARE BACK with the third installment of Lesley's adventures!! :D Had some extra time to work on this during the week which I didn't expect, so here is a little snippet to get you started while I get going on the next one.  
> There are so many scenes drafted that I can't wait to share with you all. Thank you all for coming on this journey, it means the absolute world to me!  
> I'll be back in chapter 2 with some more writers' commentary, but for now, enjoy!! xx

A soft breeze whistled across the landscape, the sparse variation of plant life rippling in the light wind as the sun bore down harshly. All was quiet; peaceful.

Jorge’s gaze drifted across the barren plain. He sighed. “They’re late.”

Brenda flipped her wrist, checking her watch. Noting the time, she exhaled sharply and brushed her shoulder-length hair out of her face, the movement agitated. “They’ll be there, they’ll be there,” she muttered, her foot tapping anxiously against the floor of their battered jeep.

A train horn sounded in the distance.

Brenda glanced at Jorge and smirked, cocking her rifle. Smiling viciously in return, Jorge locked the protective metal pieces across his window and slammed his foot against the accelerator, the old truck rocketing up into the hills.

o-o-o-o-o

Lesley’s nails dug into the threadbare seat, her other hand clamped around the truck frame for dear life. The wind blustered through the decrepit truck, all four doors torn off. Adrenaline surged through her veins, her eyes bright and blazing as they thundered across the desert valley.

“There!” she shouted, pointing at the dust cloud rising up from the other side of the WCKD train.

“On it!” Vince yelled, yanking hard on the steering wheel and swerving towards the rear of the transport. “Hang on!”

Wedged in the passenger seat, Thomas reached up and grabbed the metal frame of the jeep too. “Brenda, we’re coming up behind!” he yelled over the walkie. “Keep ‘em busy!”

Vince hit the accelerator, driving them up and over the gravel rise in the ground onto the train tracks, the wheels straddling the lines. Straining against her seat harness, Lesley peered out of the truck, her hair billowing around her face; up ahead, she could see Brenda standing up through the skylight of their decoy vehicle, a rifle held expertly in her hands. She grinned at the sight.

Vince’s hands shook with the strain of trying to keep the jeep on the tracks. “This is crazy, Thomas!”

Lesley barked with laughter, clapping Thomas on the shoulder. “Shouldn’t have expected anything less!”

There were flashes of light up ahead followed by the faint sound of gunfire, the sharp _crack_ of each shot still audible over the noise of the train.

“That’s our cue!” Lesley shouted.

Thomas quickly unclipped his harness, swinging himself out of the jeep and clambering onto the hood. Settling into a crouch, he grabbed the sling of material wrapped around the windscreen wipers to keep himself steady while his other hand reached down in front of the vehicle, grabbing the thick coil of wire with a nasty metal hook attached to the end. “Get me closer!” he shouted.

Lesley clambered into the front seat as Vince floored it, the steering wheel shuddering beneath his hands; the jeep rocked dangerously from side to side, wheels scraping the train tracks. They edged towards the train, the distance closing with every second. Lesley held her breath.

With a loud grunt, Thomas lunged forward and snagged the hook on the tow bar at the rear of the train, where another car would usually be attached. He gave it a sharp jerk to make sure it held, and when it didn’t budge, Thomas wobbled to his feet and leapt across the gap, grabbing the rungs of the ladder on the left-rear of the carriage.

“You’re up, Lesley!” Vince roared.

Gritting her teeth, Lesley tightened the straps on her backpack and clambered out onto the hood, her heart pounding and nerves gripping her as the metal flexed under her weight.

_Just like we practiced, just like we practiced_ , she chanted to herself. However, driving in circles around the Scorch - and jumping between two vehicles at high speed - suddenly felt vastly different, and far more tame.

Every jerk of the truck beneath her boots sent a sharp jolt of panic through her chest, her body prickling with sweat, but she held firm; she _had_ to. She held on for a moment, taking a second to regain her balance, and then she stumbled upright and lunged towards the train car, arms outstretched.

Thomas caught her, hauling her against the ladder beside him. “Gotcha, Les,” he gasped, still breathing heavily. He nodded to the lone man still in the truck. “Come on, Vince!”

Throwing off his harness and keeping one hand clamped on the wheel until the very last second, Vince swung himself out onto the hood.

There was a hair-raising screech and a burst of sparks from the front right wheel. The acrid smell of burnt rubber filled the air and the tire suddenly burst, sending Vince stumbling onto his back as the jeep plummeted in height, his head hanging over the side dangerously close to the rails.

“Vince?” Thomas shouted nervously.

Lesley could feel herself beginning to choke on anxiety. “Come on!” she yelled.

Vince staggered to his feet, and to Lesley’s utter horror, the coil of wire between them suddenly began to unfurl, the jeep rapidly starting to fall away from the train. The hook shuddered with the strain. “It’s gonna go!” she cried. _Shit, shit, shit -_

Thomas’s eyes bulged. “JUMP!” he roared.

His face visibly paling, Vince threw himself across the yawning gap, only just managing to grab the bottom of the other ladder. His feet scrabbled for leverage on the gravel between the tracks, his muscles taut with the strain of holding his body up on the rungs.

Lunging forward, Lesley clamped her fingers around Vince’s bicep hard enough to leave bruises, hauling him upwards with a loud grunt, sweat breaking out on her forehead as Thomas reached around her to help. It gave Vince the advantage he needed to get a better grip and lift his feet up onto the bottom rung of the ladder.

There was a vicious sound like a cracking whip and the cable suddenly pulled taut. The truck slammed to a halt as what was left of the front wheel caught on the track; the jeep jackknifed, the wire yanking the vehicle upright and over onto its roof where it crashed in an unrecognisable mess of twisted metal, the force of the wreck jerking the hook off the back of the train and barely missing Thomas’s foot as it went flying.

Vince stared at the battered remains of his truck. “Shit,” he swore.

Thomas glanced at him. “Let’s go!” he shouted, turning and starting to climb, calloused hands gripping the ladder.

Lesley shifted sideways to let him pass her. “Knew I should’ve braided your mane,” she joked to Vince. _Shit, though, if his hair had gotten caught in the wheel -_

A low, thunderous rumble filled the air, a noise they were all uncomfortably familiar with. Squinting his eyes against the sun, Vince pointed off to their rear. “There!” he shouted over the roar of the wind. “Berg!”

The giant flying craft swooped into view from the hills, blades whirring and churning up dust from the ground below. The grating roar of its engines steadily grew louder.

“Here comes the cavalry!” Lesley shouted grimly.

With the clanking of metal, two cannons emerged from the undercarriage of the craft. His eyes widening, Thomas grabbed the walkie from his belt. “Hey, Brenda?” he yelled, his voice strained with anxiety. “You got company!”

_“Go, go, go!”_ came the reply.

There was a high-pitched screeching sound from WCKD’s signature aircraft as it soared overhead; less than a second later the ground around Brenda and Jorge’s truck erupted with explosions.

“Holy shit!” Lesley gasped.

Bursts of orange and yellow fire, white sparks, clouds of dust; the berg fired a good fifteen rounds, the roar of every explosion making Lesley flinch back against Thomas, the knot of anxiety winding tighter in her chest. “Come on, come on,” she muttered.

With the vicious snarl of its engine, Jorge’s truck shot out of the debris cloud, veering off to the right of the train and hurtling away across the valley. The berg immediately initiated a sharp turn, banking hard and following after them.

_“Thomas!”_ Brenda’s voice crackled through the walkie. _“You’re on your own. Don’t die.”_

Thomas raised the walkie. “Good luck,” he answered. He nodded to Vince and Lesley. “We gotta move. Come on!”

They hastened up the ladders, Vince hauling Thomas up who in turn grabbed Lesley’s hand to pull her up onto the roof of the carriage. One after the other, they set off down the length of the train; there were thirteen carriages to the front of the transport, but they only needed to scale the first five to reach the most vulnerable link in the train.

The desert screamed by on all sides, a blur of muted earth tones. The wind battered Lesley from everywhere at once, a roar in her ears that matched her deafening heartbeat.

A flash of movement. “Guards up ahead!” she shouted, eyeing the six black-clad figures steadily making their way towards them from the front of the train. _The berg must’ve warned them_ , she realised.

Thomas jerked his head in acknowledgment. “Two more cars!” he yelled.

Their boots stomping over the metal grating covering the final carriage, they crashed to a stop, hunkering down against the wind. Vince swung down onto the ledge at the front of the container. “Give me the bag!” he roared.

Lesley unslung the pack from her shoulders and tossed it to Vince before carefully swinging down beside him, Thomas right behind her. Just as they had rehearsed in the days leading up to this, she started to hand Vince the batches of wiring and explosives in a precise order as he leaned over the coupling between the two carriages.

They were perfectly placed; the train car in front of them was an open-top metal cage containing barrels and crates of various supplies ... and tanks that were clearly labeled _HYDROGEN_.

“Keep going!” one of the guards yelled. They were getting closer.

“Get ready, Thomas!” Lesley shouted as he positioned himself in front of them; he pulled his handgun from his holster, aiming it skywards.

The soldiers swarmed into view two carriages away. Thomas closed one eye and hammered the trigger, bullet after bullet careering towards the men, the sharp blast of gunfire piercing their ears. There were grunts and yells from the guards, all of them either dropping to the roof of the train or backing away. Lesley didn’t know how many had actually been hit.

“Vince?” Thomas yelled, chancing a glance over his shoulder.

“Nearly there!” Lesley replied while Vince merely grunted. Handing the last of the detonators to him, she grabbed her own gun from her belt; she exhaled, planting one of her feet slightly behind her, and fired. Another guard dropped, gripping his shoulder.

“We’re set!” Vince roared. “Cover your ass!”

Lesley and Thomas holstered their weapons, and the soldiers saw their chance. “Go, go, go!” a voice commanded, loud and harsh.

Vince pulled the pin on the explosive; the coupling between the cars was showered with sparks. “TAKE COVER!” he yelled.

_Seven seconds._

Grabbing an access ladder, Lesley flung herself around one side of the container, Vince disappearing on the opposite side. A second later, Thomas crashed into her with his momentum.

“Sorry,” he gasped, throwing an arm over Lesley’s shoulders and crushing her against him, his body curled protectively around her as they held onto the ladder for dear life.

They hunkered down as their train car was pummeled with gunfire, the ricocheting bullets miraculously missing as the soldiers scrambled down the rear of the carriages up ahead and surged towards them, weapons raised -

Lesley peeked over Thomas’s shoulder, staring at the sparking explosive. “Is it gonna -?”

_BANG._

The brutal noise of the explosion tore through Lesley’s eardrums as their train car rocked violently; she clamped her arm tighter around Thomas as he leaned into her with a surprised gasp of his own, both of them nearly thrown from the carriage by the sheer force of the blast.

There was a hair-raising screech like nails on a chalkboard; the wheels beneath their car locked, golden sparks flying into the air as the carriage suddenly jerked backwards, rapidly slowing in speed.

Her heart racing frantically, Lesley peeked out from around Thomas and saw that they had successfully separated the train, the other eight carriages speeding away with smoke billowing from the rear. She grinned. “Phase two is go!” she shouted over the shrieking of the wheels.

“Copy that!” Thomas replied.

When it reached a crawling speed, Vince, Lesley and Thomas all leapt off the car, and with a wheezing groan their end of the train rolled to a stop.

Unfortunately, so did the other half, the drivers pulling the train to a halt further down the track. Lesley hissed in contempt as another group of heavily-armed soldiers rapidly disembarked from one of the carriages, joining their comrades further down the train.

“Oh, shit,” Vince grimaced. “It’s gonna be close.”

Lesley nodded, anxiety starting to creep through her chest again. “Best get a move on, then.”

Turning to the grassy plains on their left, Thomas gave a piercing whistle. Lesley grinned as a familiar head of blond hair popped up from behind one of the boulders a good hundred paces from the train tracks, a metal tank slung across his back.

“Newt!” Vince called.

Newt looked over his shoulder. “Alright, come on, let’s go! Come on!” he hollered, reaching down to pick a heavy black bag off the ground; a moment later, two boys from the original Right Arm group emerged from behind another rock.

_Like daisies_ , Lesley thought in amusement as the three boys hurried towards them. She felt giddy with relief, barely able to believe they had managed to stop the train exactly where they had planned; the sheer amount of calculations had taken them _hours_ , the timing coming down to the wire to ensure they stopped in the same vicinity as the boulders.

Lesley stamped down on her elation. They weren’t even halfway through the execution of their harebrained scheme; she couldn’t celebrate yet, not when there were still so many things that could go wrong.

Her heart clenched. The WCKD captives had been awfully quiet, not even screaming when the explosion went off; were they even on the train?

_Of course they were_ , she growled to herself. She had even helped on the reconnaissance missions, and the train schedules had yet to be proven wrong. But, of course, they were shucked to almighty if their friends were stuck on the other half of the train.

Not waiting for further instructions, Lesley charged forward.

“Minho? MINHO!” Thomas yelled, moving down the line.

Lesley added her voice to the clamour, slamming her fists against the metal carriages on her way past. “Minho, are you in there?!”

“Can you hear me?” Thomas shouted.

Pandemonium erupted. Shouts and hollers began to sound from within one of the train carriages, screams, cries begging for help.

And one specific yell that sounded just like Minho.


	2. Hear My Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesley snatched up one of the coarse ropes, letting it run through her hands to ensure it didn’t get tangled and wincing as her hands began to turn red. Across from her, Thomas mirrored her movements.  
> Whirling around, Newt threw himself at the edge of the carriage, seizing the top of the ladder. “Vince!” he roared. “Get up here!”  
> The gunfire from the soldiers began to increase; her eyes widening, Lesley threw herself down, flattening her body against the roof. With the thunderous clanking of metal, the lines around them were yanked taut. Lesley held her breath, but the ropes held longer.  
> Slowly, the train carriage started to rise.
> 
> (in which the WCKD soldiers advance, the race is on, and the Gladers have a couple of tricks up their sleeves.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two whoo!! Enjoy :D xx

“This one,” Thomas gasped, hitting the carriage as Newt flew around the train, skidding to a stop beside them. “It’s this one!”

Lesley’s chest tightened; Minho was right on the other side of that steel wall. “Oh, my God, hang on, Min,” she whispered, her heart lurching.

His eyes alight with hope, Newt threw down his pack and snatched the goggles hanging around his neck, tugging them on. Crouching down, he yanked open the bag to pull out the torching equipment they had scavenged some weeks before, barely sparing Thomas a glance as he scaled the carriage ladder.

Without the added windchill, the blistering desert sun beaming down on them was unrelenting. Beneath her jacket, Lesley was suddenly sweltering; she wiped her brow on the back of her hand. “You good, Newt?” she called.

Tugging a bandana up over his nose and mouth, Newt threw her a thumbs up, visibly satisfied that he had everything set up as planned. “Get going, Les!” he yelled, white sparks flying around him as he set to work.

Nodding, Lesley grabbed Newt’s bag and slung it over her shoulders, clambering up the rungs after Thomas. Heaving the duffel bag up onto the top of the train with a grunt, she tore it open and dumped the coils of thick rope at her feet, quickly snatching up an end as Thomas and Vince pounced. They each hurtled in opposite directions, using metal carabiners to attach the rope ends to the steel hooks at the corners of the car.

Lesley glanced towards the other half of the train and saw the soldiers steadily creeping closer. She swore under her breath, her heart thundering painfully in her chest. They had set the clock in motion the moment they stopped the train; now, they just had to beat it.

Seeming to have the same thoughts, Thomas peered frantically over the side of the car as he clipped another carabiner into place. “Newt, how you doing?” he shouted down.

“Don’t rush me!” came the terse reply.

“Miguel, how’s it looking?” Vince yelled down the opposite side.

“Nearly there!” one of the boys answered while the other readied his shotgun, aiming it at the oncoming soldiers.

There was the cracking of gunfire; dust clouds burst across the dirt around the WCKD guards at the same time bullets ricocheted off their carriage. Thomas ducked down, half sitting on Lesley. “Shit!” he exclaimed, yanking out his gun and firing back. “Keep going, I’ll cover you!” he shouted to Vince and Lesley.

Gritting her teeth, Lesley crashed to her stomach, screwing the last carabiner into place as Vince tightened the one he had been working on. “We’re good to go!” she yelled.

The carriage was assaulted with another barrage of gunfire, the soldiers forming a line not fifty paces from them. Lesley stiffened, feeling the air part above her head as a bullet shot past her, barely missing. “Shucking hell,” she gasped.

It was one of the many things they had come to realise. Most of WCKD’s elite force had been wiped out by the Flare, leaving but a mere handful of amateurs with guns to secure their cargo.

Unfortunately, the term also applied to the Gladers, who were mediocre shots at best.

Thomas’s jaw clenched as he fired a couple more rounds; another soldier dropped. “Newt, get up here!” he roared.

“Almost there!”

Lesley swore under her breath; Newt was completely out in the open without any kind of protection. Grimacing, she swung down the side of the carriage; pain jolted through her legs as she hit the ground, stumbling forward in front of Newt. Taking a split second to check her position, she ripped her gun from its holster and began firing.

_Minho, Minho, Minho,_ a voice in her head chanted incessantly.

“Thanks, Les!” Newt called, his voice muffled.

Lesley flinched backwards at the harsh _ping_ of a bullet ricocheting off the train barely two feet from her, giving her one hell of a fright. “Shit - keep working!” she yelled, her heart stuttering painfully as another barrage of gunfire came in their direction. She fired again and again; another soldier hit the ground. _Shuck, how she hadn’t been hit yet -_

“Don’t you bloody well become target practice -”

“Your shuck ass is worth it, now _get a move on_ before I shoot _you_ -”

“That would be counterproductive,” Newt snorted, strained laughter clear in his voice as he pressed the flame of the blowtorch closer to the metal clasp on the train, holding the piece of equipment so tight his hands began to cramp. A few seconds later, the fastening broke off, leaving a jagged edge. “Got it!” he shouted triumphantly.

Vince suddenly swung down to join Lesley, grabbing his gun out. “Newt, go!” he roared, returning the gunfire.

Abandoning his equipment, Newt grabbed the rungs and frantically scaled the ladder, flinching at every bullet that struck the carriage.

“Move, Lesley!” Vince yelled. “I got you!”

Jerking her head in assent, Lesley shoved her gun into her holster and scrambled after Newt, pressing her body as close to the train as possible as bullets whizzed through the air around her. _Maybe WCKD has orders to capture us alive - or they’re waiting for backup -_

Ripping the goggles off his face, Newt flattened himself on top of the car next to Thomas. “Where the hell are they?!” he growled, rolling onto his side to retrieve his holstered gun.

“I don’t know!” Thomas shouted, firing several more rounds as Lesley crashed to the top of the carriage beside them, the metal blistering.

“This is too close,” she gasped, looking at the soldiers closing in.

“Oi, lads!” Newt yelled over the other side. “Get your bloody arses up here!”

“Okay, okay, we’re done!” one of them yelled back.

The roar of an engine filled the air. A berg soared over their end of the train and dropped into position over their heads, hovering, the propeller draught sweeping through their hair and clothes. Several of the soldiers saluted the craft, relaxing their stances.

An icy bolt of dread shot through Lesley’s chest, her heart plummeting to the soles of her boots, wondering if this was the end, if Brenda and Jorge had been captured -

_“Alright, boys and girls, we’re here!”_ Jorge crowed over the radio, his speech crackled but the cheer evident.

Lesley grinned widely, laughing in delight. Not hovering menacingly, she realised; hovering _protectively_.

A few seconds later, the hatch tucked beneath the berg swung open and a thick, industrial-strength wire with a two-foot long hook on the end steadily began its descent towards the train.

The WCKD guards finally seemed to understand they were being played. They surged forward. “Keep moving!” one of them yelled. “Go, go, go!”

“Oh, shit,” Lesley cursed, snatching the walkie from Thomas’s belt. “Can you hurry that thing up?!” she barked down the line.

_“We’re at max speed, sister!”_ Frypan shouted.

Alongside the carriage, Vince stood his ground, firing bullet after bullet, his face set in a hardened mask. _Bang!_ Another guard dropped dead.

Thomas waved up at the berg. “Come on!” he shouted as the hook inched closer.

“Lower!” Newt called urgently.

The soldiers were coming at full speed now, running in a crouched stance and firing at the people crowding the top of the carriage. The other two boys crouched at the front of the carriage, providing Lesley, Newt and Thomas with cover fire as Thomas put his hands on Lesley’s waist and lifted her up into the air.

Lesley desperately fought back the memory of another pair of hands on her, long slender fingers at her waist as they swung upside down across a towering shaft -

She screamed in shock as a bullet went whistling past her, slicing through her jacket as it flapped about in the wind gusts.

“Get her down!” Newt yelled, reaching up to grab her.

“Don’t you dare, Thomas!” Lesley shrieked, stretching as far as she could.

Finally, she grabbed onto the hook with both hands. “Yes!” she gasped.

Thomas let go of her, allowing Lesley to use her weight to bring the hook down faster, and no sooner had she crashed rather inelegantly to the carriage roof on her backside, the three of them were grabbing the clasps from each of the rope ends and slipping them onto the metal hook.

The moment the contraption was secure, they waved frantically up at the berg.“Go, go!” Thomas yelled.

_“Alright, we’re clear!”_ Frypan’s voice crackled over the walkie.

_“Okay, we’re going up!”_ Jorge shouted.

The engines roared, the exhaust draught gusting through their hair and clothes as the craft began to rise, the propellers whirring madly and sending clouds of dust billowing around them.

Lesley snatched up one of the coarse ropes, letting it run through her hands to ensure it didn’t get tangled and wincing as her hands began to turn red. Across from her, Thomas mirrored her movements.

Whirling around, Newt threw himself at the edge of the carriage, seizing the top of the ladder. “Vince!” he roared. “Get up here!”

Lesley spun on her heel, suddenly realising he wasn’t up on the top of the train with them.

There was another burst of gunfire. Her stomach churning with dread and adrenaline, she whipped out her own weapon again and fired back, her shoulder aching with the rebounds. She silently prayed she would have enough bullets to last the mission; her supply was already dangerously low.

The gunfire from the soldiers began to increase; her eyes widening, Lesley threw herself down, flattening her body against the roof, the others around her either doing the same or ducking into crouches.

“Come on, come on,” Newt muttered, hovering over her, fingers gripping her shoulder.

With the thunderous clanking of metal, the lines around them were yanked taut. Lesley held her breath, but the ropes held longer. Slowly, the train carriage started to rise.

Thomas glanced up at the berg. “Now, Vince!” he yelled.

Vince made a run for it, bolting around the side of the car and leaping for the bottom of the ladder. He just managed to grab the final rung, his arm muscles bulging as he hauled himself upwards.

Gritting his teeth, Thomas unsteadily rose to his feet, firing back at the soldiers. Like a monkey, Vince finally scrambled up onto the roof; leaping up to grab his forearm, Lesley grinned at him. “Hello, stranger!” she shouted over the noise, and he laughed.

With the hair-raising screech of metal scraping against metal, the carriage pulled free of its frame and lurched out into the open.

“Woah!” Lesley gasped, stumbling sideways as the carriage jerked violently beneath their feet, tilting dangerously before righting itself.

“Hang on there, Les!” Newt shouted, grabbing her arm.

They climbed higher and higher, drifting over the other end of the train. Below them, the soldiers finally stopped shooting, seeming to accept defeat as their bullets hit the bottom of the carriage. Banking carefully, the berg turned and headed out into the desert, leaving the WCKD transport far behind them.

“Yeah!” Thomas yelled wildly, cheering as he waved madly up at the berg. His eyes shining, Newt laughed fondly, grinning madly as his blond hair whipped about his face in the wind.

“We did it!” Lesley screamed ecstatically, giddy with relief as she hauled Newt and Thomas into a fierce embrace, all three of them throwing their arms around each other, jumping and yelling. Lesley felt like she was on top of the world, her heart roaring with triumph.

There was loud laughter and whooping from the other end of the radio line; Frypan, Brenda and Harriet could all be heard hollering at the top of their lungs. _“We’re going home, baby!”_ Jorge crowed.

“Alright, guys! Good job,” Vince congratulated them, clapping Thomas on the shoulder as he pulled him into a rough embrace. “Whoo! Yeah!”

Lesley stomped her boot against the roof of the carriage. “Hang tight, Min,” she grinned, repeating Jorge’s words: “We’re going home.”

They hadn’t beaten WCKD yet. But, as they settled down laughing on the top of the container, watching the desert landscape fly by, they all knew that every victory, no matter how small, was a celebration in itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THERE WE GO!!! They rescued Minho, and they all lived happily ever after - wait, what? That's not how it goes???
> 
> Hope you enjoyed those first two chapters!! Good to see a whole bunch of you back for this next instalment of Lesley's adventures :D
> 
> The rescue on the train was SO much fun to write. Basically I watched the scene once to make a timeline and get dialogue, and then I left the rest for my imagination to fill in the blanks, which actually made it easier to slide Lesley into the story! Fun and shenanigans once again, and it was nice to tidy up a few plot points - such as why the WCKD soldiers were such poor shots compared to the Gladers! (seriously on of the best things about this story, these little things!!)
> 
> In some ways it's a little scary for me because now I'm like. Woah. Okay. I have to actually start wRAPPING THESE FICS UP. Like this is IT. I hope this story goes in a direction you like, there's a lot that's going to unfold in the upcoming chapters.
> 
> Also, can we please appreciate how adorable TBS looked laughing as they were all celebrating together?! <3 cutie newtie
> 
> As always, if you're enjoying the story please feel free to leave comments or kudos <3 take care, everyone!!


	3. Heart Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aris ate up the food gratefully. “They drove us crazy with hallucinations until we didn’t know what was real or not,” he continued. “Tests every day. Hour after hour in the labs. Wasn’t even conscious half the time.”  
> Lesley’s heart clenched, disgust and nausea twisting her stomach.  
> Rubbing his arm by way of comfort, Sonya shook her head in amazement. “You’re lucky you found us at all,” she told them. Her brow creased. “They had us on the move a lot, shunting us between facilities.”  
> They knew. They’d been following.  
> “We only heard passing conversations between the doctors while we were drugged,” Sonya continued, “but it felt like something big was happening.”
> 
> (in which the Gladers enter the train carriage, old friends are reunited, and a devastated Lesley makes a decision.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neeeeeew chapter!! :D this took a little longer than expected because I had two scenes and was trying to figure out which of the two would fit into THIS chapter specifically. Anyway, all sorted now. Hope you all enjoy!! xx

Sparks flew.

With a swift kick, Thomas rammed the door open and entered the carriage. Lesley surged forward behind him, Newt and Harriet close on her heels; her heart hammered painfully in her chest as her gaze darted frantically around the train car.

It was an appalling sight.

Wide, fearful eyes stared back at them, rows and rows of immune children crowding the carriage, all with their hands chained to the seats in front of them; many of them were painfully young, not even twelve or thirteen years old.

Lesley steeled herself, stamping down on the rush of anger flooding her veins. “It’s alright, everyone,” she called out, cursing the shake in her voice. “You’re safe.”

And then she caught sight of a familiar head of shaggy, dirty brown hair.

“Aris!” Thomas gasped, rushing forward. He visibly stuttered on his next words for a moment as he stared. “Hey, you guys okay?”

Sat beside him, her blonde locks filthy, Sonya nodded, throwing them a weak smile. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Shit,” Lesley breathed. While many of the other kids had dark circles beneath their eyes, Aris’s were completely black, bruises covering the skin across his gaunt face, his lips torn and crossed with dark lines of dried blood. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “We’ll get you a rag, alright?”

Aris smiled tightly. “Thanks, Lesley -”

“There you are!” Harriet pushed past, lunging forward and hauling Aris and Sonya into a fierce embrace, relief flooding her features. “Oh, God!” she cried.

Lesley nudged Thomas onward. “Give them a minute,” she murmured as Harriet pressed a tender kiss to Sonya’s temple.

Nodding, Thomas continued down the aisle, Lesley and Newt close behind. “It’s okay,” he called reassuringly. “You guys are safe, alright? Just hang on.”

“I need the bolt cutters!” Harriet shouted to one of the Right Arm boys as he stuck his head in through the doorway.

Each footstep Lesley took echoed her heartbeats, the muscle pounding in her chest as she followed behind Thomas, her eyes frantically scanning the faces staring back at them as she fought for breath, the room swimming.

She wondered if she would recognise Minho; if he would recognise _her_. _She_ wasn’t even sure if she knew the girl who stared back at her in the fragments of mirrored glass in the outhouse; skin glowing from the sun, smatterings of freckles she’d acquired ... and hard lines across her face, carved by her experiences out in the Scorch.

Not watching where she was going, she nearly crashed into Thomas. Recovering her bearings, her face paled.

They had reached the back of the carriage.

Slowly, Thomas turned around to face them, his expression crumbling. He gave a small shake of his head. “He’s not here,” was all he said, his voice barely audible.

It was as if her entire world was crumbling faster than she could pick up the pieces, a hollow sensation carving its way through her torso with frightening speed. She searched the faces of the final rows, eyes wide with panic, but she realised Thomas was right.

Minho was nowhere to be seen.

Not trusting herself to speak, she gripped his shoulder, turning around to look at Newt. He looked bewildered and confused even as a shattered look seeped into his eyes.

Swallowing thickly, Lesley exhaled shakily. “Okay,” she said hoarsely, blinking back the tears burning her eyes. She cleared her throat and attempted to speak louder so that her voice would reach the front of the car. “Okay, let’s get these shanks off the carriage!” She pushed herself down the aisle again, forcing herself to focus as her gaze shifted to the gawping, hopeful onlookers in the doorway. “Go grab any kind of bolt-cutters and pliers you can find from the supply shed,” she ordered. “And someone do us all a favour and find Jorge, he’s good with this stuff.”

_Keep talking. Focus. Don’t let your thoughts wander._

Newt nodded in agreement, the darkness in his expression abruptly disappearing as if he had snapped a mask into place. “Alright you lot, you heard Lesley. Let’s get everyone out of here as fast as we bloody can; they’ve been here long enough.”

o-o-o-o-o

The metallic clatter of chains hitting the floor was like music to their ears. They worked row by row, cutting everyone free of their restraints, and the rescued immunes slowly trickled out of the carriage, blinking dazedly in the harsh sunlight. They stood in an unsure throng, gazing wide-eyed at their surroundings.

Nestled beside the sea, waves lazily lapping the shoreline, the Docks had become a home of sorts for the survivors of the Right Arm, one where they had finally been able to rest, recover, and come up with a plan. A month or two before, they had stumbled upon the location as they traipsed across the Scorch in their three rusting, weary vehicles.

Recognising the potential, the fortune, of such a find, they quickly made camp and set to work in a way that reminded Lesley of their days in the Glade.They had Track-hoes and Cooks to sort out the food; Builders designed the fortifications and helped rebuild the few structures lining the waterfront; and Runners were given the responsibility of scavenging the area for supplies. Newt had stepped up and decided on the system - or, rather, brought it back - and Lesley knew Alby would have been so proud of him; hell, _all_ of them were, Newt easily stepping into the role of second-in-command.

The wooden shacks and old maintenance sheds had been cleaned up, their interiors scrubbed and dusted, and any rotting boards swiftly replaced. Hammocks had been strung up in designated areas; all of their tools had been organised and stored; they even had their own designated Map Room where they hung up charts of the area, train schedules and notes all relating to their search for Minho and their other captured friends.

As they stood there in muted awe,the stunned gazes of those rescued eventually shifted to the cargo ship settled in the water, crawling with men and women. This vessel was their pride and joy, one they had all worked tirelessly on for weeks on end, both day and night in set shifts. They had inspected her from top to bottom to make sure she was watertight, checking for holes and any weaknesses in the metalwork and rivets.

As old, worn and neglected as the ship was, she was their ticket to what they all dreamed to be a paradise, a heaven on Earth; a safe haven.

Vince waited until the last person had emerged from the train carriage before clearing his throat. “Alright, listen up,” he called, clambering up onto a neat row of stacked crates so that everyone could see him. “I know you’ve all been through hell. I wish I could say our troubles are over, but we’re not through this yet.”

Many sets of eyes watched him, some wary, others curious. Lesley went and sat on a crate between Frypan and Newt, with Thomas on his other side, all four of them listening. Nearby, a group of people pulled a camouflage tarpaulin across the top of the berg.

“WCKD’s still out there,” Vince told them. “They’re not giving up, ‘cause you got something they want. They _took_ you because you’re immune to a plague that’s wiping out the human race, and they think you’re worth sacrificing to find a cure.” He pointed at his chest. “Well, I don’t.”

There were cheers and rounds of applause.

“So, in two days,” Vince continued, glancing up at the ship behind them, “when we get this tub of rust seaworthy, we’re getting the hell outta here.”

There were more hollers and shouts of agreement; Lesley’s chest tightened.

Vince smiled, his voice ringing out over the crowd. “We’re gonna go to a place where WCKD will never find you,” he told them, his voice growing stronger with conviction. “A place you can start over. A place you can call home.” A pause. “Are you with me?”

As the group of people went wild with cheering, Thomas looked away, staring at his boots.

“Come on up here!” Vince grinned, waving his arm. “Let’s get to work! I need volunteers. Let’s get these crates on the boat; we got two days before we leave!” 

As people began to get up to help Vince, Newt glanced sideways, catching the conflicted expression on Thomas’s face. “I wanted Minho to be on that train, too, Tommy,” he told him quietly.

“We all did,” Frypan said.

Lesley wearily rubbed a hand across her eyes, desperately trying to clamp down on the urge to cry. Of course, it hadn’t been a guarantee that Minho would be there, but she had still allowed herself to foolishly hope. She was filled with a sense of crushing despair, of what might have happened, what could have been; what _should_ have been.

Thomas sighed, fidgeting. “I just can’t believe we’re talking about leaving without him.”

Newt swallowed hard. “I know,” he said shakily. His gaze drifted across the camp. “I’m sure Vince is trying to look after the others. Six months we’ve been chasing WCKD around the Scorch, trying to find Minho. I’m surprised he even held out as long as he did.”

Thomas didn’t say a word, pain flickering in his eyes.

_Don’t say it like he’s already dead,_ Lesley begged silently. But she knew as well as anyone that his chances of survival were dwindling by the day.

“This ... _safe haven_ ,” Newt began, shaking his head, “I don’t know if it’s the paradise that Vince keeps saying it is. But I do know that Minho gave up everything so we could have this chance.” He turned to look at Thomas. “What, do we just throw that away?”

“I dunno,” Frypan said, fighting back a smile. “But I think he’d kick all our asses if we did.”

Lesley gave a choked laugh while Newt snorted, smirking slightly. It was something Minho would do, beyond a shadow of a doubt. But she couldn’t fight the ache in her chest that her friends would be leaving without him ... and that she would soon be saying goodbye as well.

Because Lesley knew the Safe Haven wasn’t an option for her either.

“Thomas!”

All of them turned to see Harriet standing by one of the boat sheds, waving at them. “It’s Sonya and Aris!” she yelled. “They’re ready to talk to you sticks!”

Lesley grinned tiredly. “I’m more inclined to shank.”

Her smile vanished as fast as it appeared. _Shank_.

She stood up suddenly. “Come on,” she muttered, walking off towards Harriet without a backwards glance. “Let’s go.”

o-o-o-o-o

Aris grunted quietly in pain, wincing as Sonya dabbed some of the dried blood off his jaw with a spare rag. A moment later, Harriet passed the two of them mugs of steaming hot tea. “Here, drink this,” she told them kindly.

Aris nodded his thanks, taking a small sip as he glanced at the rest of the group gathered around them - Thomas, Newt, Lesley and Brenda. “Took you guys long enough to rescue us,” he smirked.

The corners of Thomas’s mouth twitched. “It’s good to see you too, bud.”

They were all gathered in one of the boat sheds, the warm afternoon sun streaming in through the grimy windows as they sat on various wooden crates and an assortment of makeshift cushions - sacks filled with old rags.

As a tense silence lingered in the air, Lesley decided to usher the proverbial elephant out of the room. “So, what happened?” she asked, her gaze drifting to Aris’s cut lip, cheek, and black eye.

“Fought back,” he replied simply. A huff of laughter. “Tried to, anyway.”

Frypan entered the room, holding a small block of hastily wrapped food. “It’s chocolate,” he smiled, handing a couple of bits to Sonya and Harriet. “We found some on the last supply run. It expired about six years ago, but it should be edible.”

“Should be,” Lesley muttered, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards as she took the piece Frypan offered her.

Aris ate up the food gratefully. “They drove us crazy with hallucinations until we didn’t know what was real or not,” he continued. “Tests every day. Hour after hour in the labs. Wasn’t even conscious half the time.”

Lesley’s heart clenched, disgust and nausea twisting her stomach.

Rubbing his arm by way of comfort, Sonya shook her head in amazement. “You’re lucky you found us at all,” she told them. Her brow creased. “They had us on the move a lot, shunting us between facilities.”

They knew. They’d been following.

“We only heard passing conversations between the doctors while we were drugged,” Sonya continued, “but it felt like something big was happening.”

“Any idea where they were heading this time?” Newt asked quietly, his brow creased.

Aris shook his head. “All I know is they kept talking about a city.”

Everyone shared stunned looks. “City?” Lesley repeated, her eyes wide. “You’re absolutely sure?”

They had only ever found the crumbling wasteland humanity had left behind.

“I didn’t think there were any cities left,” Harriet said softly.

“That’s because there aren’t,” Brenda told them, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned back against a stack of crates. “Not still standing, anyway.”

“Okay, wait,” Thomas interrupted. His brow furrowed. “What about Minho? Why wasn’t he on the train?”

Lesley’s breath caught in her throat. She clenched her hands to stop them shaking.

Aris glanced at Sonya for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Thomas.” He swallowed hard. “He was. There - there was a second carriage.”

Silence.

Thomas and Newt shared a long, broken look. Lesley blinked back a sudden onslaught of tears, her heart shattering, the sense of calm she had forced upon herself disappearing faster than she could grab onto it.

“Les?” Brenda whispered, but all she heard was white noise.

_Two cars. Of course there’d been two train cars_.

“I need some air,” she gasped, leaping to her feet and stumbling outside as fast as she could, her eyes burning and the air stolen from her lungs, the blood rushing in her ears like the roar of the Doors closing in her memories.

_He had been right there. Minho had been right there and they had still missed him._

An hour later, Newt found her sitting by the ocean,her toes buried in the warm sand as she listened to the soft crashing of waves against the shoreline. He offered her a steaming cup of tea he had scrounged from the kitchens. She smiled gratefully at him, tear tracks down her dirt-stained face, her bloodshot eyes painfully raw and puffy. He sat with her then, offering no words, just the comfort of another person sitting beside her, letting her know she wasn’t alone.

Six long months of planning, hunting, running and simply _surviving_ had worn them all to the bone; the relentless search for Minho and their friends had driven them to breaking point. To add salt to their wounds, knowing that even after all their efforts, Minho had _still_ managed to slip through their grasp had been the final straw.

Lesley felt numb. She had cried all the tears she had to spare, and then some. Finally, she had been forced to face the path that lay ahead of her. Everything had been clinging to the outcome of the train heist.

But shuck, she shouldn’t have hoped so desperately. Creators above, she had wanted to be there when he was pulled from the train car, to crush him against her like she never wanted to let him go, press her face into his shirt; the dream had been too much to ignore, had left her barely able to breathe some nights.

Her decision had been made. Come dawn, she would shoulder a pack and make her way towards WCKD, however long it took. She would follow the train lines, her heart lines, and if she was lucky she would meet Minho at the end of the tracks.

If she survived that long in the Scorch. She _had_ to. She couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing him again, of every laugh, conversation and insult turning to mere memory. No, she wouldn’t allow it.

_She wouldn’t allow him to become one of those stars in the sky._

Closing her eyes, she put her head on Newt’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her, wordlessly hugging her close.

_Focus, Lesley._

_Focus_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading another one!!
> 
> It's good to be back doing what I love with this fic - adding the deleted scenes back in, and also sliding in extra dialogue and character moments!! Was trying to delve more into the devastation they would have felt upon realising that Minho wasn't in the train carriage. (Also got some sneaky Sonya/Harriet on the side. I love those two so so much and had to add it in!!)  
> On that note, it's so good to have Aris and Sonya back.
> 
> It was fun exploring the community they had set up at the Docks. I've been reading the comics again - which is where the canon stuff about Newt bringing back the Glade system comes in - for a bit of inspiration. If you haven't read them yet, go check them out!! I feel like this base is the first proper home of sorts they've known since their Glade days.
> 
> One of the other things I'm touching on a little is just how much these guys have grown since the events of TST/Ready to Run. Like, to me I already see them as different in my head, like the Lesley in the fic (as I've written so far) holds herself differently to the Lesley in the last fic, has different thoughts and what I hope is a clearly stronger relationship with her Glader brothers. (That little Newt and Lesley moment at the end there!!) I feel like she's come out of her shell a little more, she's starting to make decisions that have a little leadership quality to them.  
> A lot has happened in the previous six months, so that's something I'm going to be referencing in the near future.
> 
> Just gonna say really quick, honestly the response for this latest fic has me so happy. It seems a lot of people are suddenly discovering Lesley's story, and it means the world to me!
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you're still enjoying the fic! I always love to hear your feedback. Have an amazing week, and stay safe <3 <3


	4. Chasing Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deeming a change of subject appropriate, Brenda cleared her throat and threw a grin at Lesley. “Well, I’m not going to this so-called paradise either, so count me in for whatever it is you have planned to save this guy’s sorry ass; hell, Jorge might even join us if he sticks around. It can’t be any worse than Thomas’s crazy schemes.”  
> Lesley couldn’t help but laugh, even as she felt a heavy weight settling in her chest. Immunity was a condition for traveling to the Safe Haven. Brenda’s fate had been sealed the moment she had been attacked in the Scorch; despite Thomas’s blood now running through her veins, none of them had any idea how long the serum would last, or when she would turn rabid again.  
> And Lesley ... Lesley grimaced, her hands clenching.
> 
> (in which Lesley and Brenda talk, a secret is kept, and the survivors throw a party.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh this latest chapter has one of my favourite scenes. Enjoy!! xx

Lesley made for the far side of the sheds, where a shaded canopy concealed the trucks from view and provided some welcome relief from the glaring sun. She had seen Jorge heading that way, and knew Brenda would have likely followed him there.

Her hunch was correct; she found her perched on a tall stool between the two vehicles as Jorge worked away on one of them, the hood propped open to reveal the rusting pipework beneath the bonnet.

“... Oh, I know, you’re just asking. Everybody’s just _asking_.” Brenda’s tone was light, but her voice held an edge of irritation. “Don’t worry,” she told Jorge. “When I Crank out, you’ll be the first to know, okay?”

Lesley cleared her throat. “Hey,” she said, announcing her presence.

A book in her hand, Brenda waved her over. “I wondered when you’d find your way over here,” she laughed, but her expression was kind.

Jorge nodded at her. “Les,” he greeted, throwing a pointed look in Brenda’s direction before heading out to presumably help Vince with the ship’s supplies.

Hesitantly stepping closer, Lesley watched as Brenda tugged down the bottom of her jeans, long calloused fingers pulling up the side zip and concealing the scar on her ankle. The Crank bite she had received back in the Scorch had long since faded; it was no longer bleeding and angry, the skin scarring over until it was a pale pink colour. However, the teeth impressions in her lower leg were still noticeable.

“How’re things?” Lesley began tiredly. _To hell with the elephant in the room._

Brenda shrugged. “Well, we just beat the crap out of WCKD _and_ got to nab one of their bergs.” She glanced lazily at her watch, tilting the face towards her. “Not bad for four in the afternoon.”

Lesley laughed, but Brenda narrowed her eyes. “You?” she asked concernedly.

Her bottom lip trembling, Lesley sighed, letting her guard drop. Brenda always saw right through her. “I’m a little tired,” she admitted. “It’s ... been a lot.”

Humming in understanding, Brenda pursed her lips. “I’m sorry about Minho,” she said, her voice soft and earnest. “I really am.”

Leaning back against the truck beside Brenda, Lesley pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, a shuddering breath rattling through her torso. “I just ... _shuck_ , it’s been haunting me ever since that night in the Scorch,” she said. “I thought time would heal it, would make this whole mission _easier_ , but it’s - it’s still -”

She still had nightmares; screaming as blue lightning danced around her, Minho being dragged away by WCKD soldiers.

“Raw,” Brenda finished quietly.

Lesley nodded jerkily. “It’s this guilt that claws at me and I can’t shucking _breathe_. I see him _everywhere_. Part of me wonders if we ever did enough to try save him -”

“Of course you did,” Brenda said firmly, her tone brooking no room for argument. “I saw it all, today and in every mission before.”

Lesley scuffed her boot against the ground. “I thought I was prepared for the possibility that we might not get him this time,” she responded listlessly. “I mean, two carriages isn’t WCKD’s usual MO, but - dammit, we should have at least considered it.” She shook her head. “Shuck, he was right _there_ , Brenda.” 

_But I know what I have to do now._

There was nothing but the soft whisper of the breeze for a long few minutes.

“You’ve got that look in your eyes,” Brenda told her suddenly. “The one where your mind’s a million miles away. Or, you know, like Thomas when he’s thinking too hard and it looks like he might spontaneously combust.”

“Hardy har,” Lesley responded dryly. After a moment, she sighed again. “It’s just ...”

Brenda stayed silent, patiently waiting for Lesley to collect her thoughts.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Lesley swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’m going after him,” she said, some of the burden lifting from her shoulders at the admittance. “The Safe Haven isn’t a choice for me right now, you know that. And we’ve come this far; I can’t just abandon him to WCKD.”

Brenda nodded slowly. “Figured you’d say something like that,” she said quietly. She exhaled heavily, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Have you told them yet?”

Lesley bit her lip, but her lack of response was answer enough for Brenda.

She sighed. “You know, Lesley, they care about you,” she reminded her gently. “You can’t keep everything from them.”

“I will tell them,” Lesley told her sharply, less than willing to talk about _it_ after everything that had already happened that day. “On my own terms.”

Brenda finally relented at the flash of something dark in her eyes. “Okay,” she said, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. “Okay.”

Lesley relaxed at the contact, nodding as she swallowed thickly. The idea of leaving her friends was gut-wrenching, but it was the right thing to do. They were running out of both time and resources, and WCKD was undoubtedly putting some sort of drastic plan into action if they were moving all the immunes.

The fact they didn’t know what exactly said plan entailed made it all the more terrifying; WCKD had already made it perfectly clear they had no boundaries, no qualms whatsoever when it came to finding a cure for the Flare.

Deeming a change of subject appropriate, Brenda cleared her throat and threw a grin at Lesley. “Well, I’m not going to this so-called paradise either, so count me in for whatever it is you have planned to save this guy’s sorry ass; hell, Jorge might even join us if he sticks around. It can’t be any worse than Thomas’s crazy schemes.”

Lesley couldn’t help but laugh at the reminder of Thomas’s well-earned reputation, even as she felt a heavy weight settling in her chest. Immunity was a condition for traveling to the Safe Haven. Brenda’s fate had been sealed the moment she had been attacked in the Scorch; despite Thomas’s blood now running through her veins, none of them had any idea how long the serum would last, or when she would turn rabid again.

And Lesley ... Lesley grimaced, her hands clenching.

She abruptly stood upright, shoving her fists into the pockets of her jeans. Shuck, she just couldn’t sit still. “I’m gonna go help Vince,” she announced, walking backwards away from Brenda. “You coming?”

“I’ll catch up soon.” Brenda raised her book, an old faded copy of _X-Men: Watchers on the Walls_ that they had discovered in one of the ruined boat shacks. “Got a chapter that needs finishing.”

“Alright.” Lesley forced a smile and threw her a wave. “See ya soon, Bren.”

Brenda’s eyes sparkled as she cracked a grin. “Later, Les.”

o-o-o-o-o

The night was alive, the bonfire burning merrily as the survivors ate and drank, toasting to happier times and hopeful futures. Vince was in a particularly good mood as he helped grill the best of their meat supplies; they had gotten a lot of work done on the ship that day, and many of the storage boxes had been moved onboard. On top of successfully rescuing fifty or sixty immunes from the clutches of WCKD, he was in the spirit of partying that evening.

Others, not so much.

Newt sat down on a log next to Thomas, Lesley perched on the other side. He offered him a cup full of brew; Frypan had cooked up a vat of moonshine with the few ingredients they had, and the drink was already a hit amongst the partygoers, despite it not being nearly as well-crafted as Gally’s specialty brew.

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

Newt pressed the mug into his hands. “You’ll feel better,” he said firmly.

Sighing, Thomas gulped down some of the brew. He jerked his head, wincing at the taste. “I don’t deserve to be celebrating,” he said. “I failed. He was _there_ , Newt.”

Lesley closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing down another mouthful of her drink in an attempt to fight back the tortured feeling in her heart. She had to focus on her plan, on the days ahead of her; she knew she would fall apart otherwise.

Newt gripped Thomas’s shoulder tightly. “It wasn’t your fault,” he told him. “We didn’t know they’d be in two carriages.”

Thomas swallowed hard. “I should have taken more time -”

“Which we didn’t have,” Newt cut him off gently. He waved a hand. “Tommy, look around you. _Look_ how many kids we managed to rescue today. That’s a win against WCKD.”

Lesley stared at the ground, swallowing thickly. _But we didn’t get Minho_ , the voice in her head viciously nagged her.

She wondered what was going through his mind right at that moment. She couldn’t bear the thought of the torture he would be receiving in retaliation for their stunt, even though he’d had nothing to do with the rescue. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she knew Janson would punish Minho, his way of taunting them - taunting _Thomas_ \- for leaving him behind.

Thomas didn’t respond. His face suddenly a mask of carefully concealed emotions, Newt took another sip of his drink. “Come on, Tommy,” he said. “Let’s get your mind off it and go check on the boat -”

“Ship,” Lesley muttered.

“Perfectionist,” Newt shot back, chuckling.

“Prick.”

“Twat.”

“Slinthead.”

Newt swatted at her. “Cheeky bugger -”

“YO, I FIXED IT!”

Frypan came running to the fireside, kicking up sand as he surged across the beach towards the partygoers. The grin on his face was so wide it rivalled that of a cheshire cat.

“Fixed what?” Vince asked gruffly, his brow furrowing.

“The radio we found!” Frypan beamed. He plonked it on the ground; Lesley recognised it as the ‘piece of trash’ he had spent his free time working on with Jorge. “Well, actually it’s more like a stereo with a radio built in -”

People began to lean forward in interest. Lesley glanced at the expressions around her. At the look of excitement and fondness on everyone’s faces, she felt a deep pang of longing, tinged with the faint vestiges of jealousy, for the things the other people had been fortunate enough to experience ... and at the same time _remember_.

“But check it out, it’s got a disc stuck in it!” he exclaimed excitedly, hitting a button on the boom box with uncontainable enthusiasm.

There was a harsh grating sound from the stereo before a soft voice drifted out of the speakers, making everyone sit up and stare in wonder. It was a sound that had rarely been heard in the few years of their lives that the Gladers remembered.

“Music,” Lesley breathed.

The tempo started to increase, the voice growing in power. A guitar began to strum a lively tune, accompanying the piano, and people started to stand, swayed by the rhythm. Within moments, the area surrounding the fire was filled with dancing; even Harriet was pulling Sonya up to dance.

As he sat watching his friends, Thomas glanced at Lesley. Even if his own heart was heavy, he could at least make another person happy; he would do that for Minho. He owed it to him. “You ever danced before, Les?” he asked.

Lesley laughed, setting her mug down in the sand. This would be her last chance. “Have _you_?”

Newt clapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Sounds like a challenge to me, Tommy!”

Unable to help himself at Newt’s infectious cheer, Thomas chuckled, holding out a hand to Lesley; she grabbed it and let him pull her to her feet. The boisterous beat, filled with clapping and foot stomps, had everyone joining in whether they were sitting or standing or dancing, hands slapping palms and knees in time with the tune. The gaunt and bruised faces of those rescued smiled for the first time in months, the joy as infectious as the disease they were immune to.

A hand on her waist and the other holding her own, Thomas rocked Lesley from side to side with the beat before lifting his arm and twirling her. Lesley laughed aloud, her eyes alight, her heart soaring. Turning, she linked her arm with Thomas’s and they spun hoedown style in a circle; seconds later, they swapped places to dance with Brenda and Frypan, who had joined in on the shenanigans. Lesley squealed with laughter as Frypan led her in a circle with gusto, grinning all the while with a cup of moonshine in his hand - from which he continued to chug as he danced. He twirled her, and twirled her -

And then she was back in Thomas’s arms, he was spinning her out and then closer to him again, the two of them laughing and laughing and trying not to trip over their feet as they whirled around and around dizzyingly beneath the stars.

Still sat on the log, Newt took a swig of his own drink and gave a bark of laughter as he watched the four of them with a fond, contented expression, the firelight flickering across his elfin features.

The words swept around them, a promise of the Safe Haven they were chasing. It filled them with hope and showered them with happiness as they danced by the fireside, spirits raised as high as their drinks, their laughter drifting into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this latest chapter!!
> 
> A few things to unpack here! (I don't know if anyone reads my long as notes but anyway haha)
> 
> I really adore this scene between Lesley and Brenda. This is the first proper interaction with them we see in this fic, and I love the idea that they're super super close to one another, their bond having grown since the last fic. They lean on one another and support each other. She knew Lesley would eventually come and talk to her.  
> I spent a RIDICULOUS amount of time trying to figure out what Brenda was reading!! SO worth it though! I was watching on blu-ray, zooming in as much as possible, trying to grab sentences here and there so I could throw it into my search bar and LO AND BEHOLD!! IT'S AN X-MEN BOOK. I am honestly very proud of myself. (And again, one of the random little details that I like searching up for this fic, just to make it a little more real?)
> 
> For me, Lesley's thoughts are different in this fic, and I hope it comes across that way?? She's going through a few things; and this secret, all will be revealed later ... any guesses?
> 
> The party scene was one of the first scenes I ever wrote for this fic, months and MONTHS ago! I was looking for the opportunity to slide it in somewhere, and this was the best place. I mean, yes they're sad they didn't get Minho, but they also had so much to celebrate!! They kicked WCKD's butt!!  
> Adding in little moments like with Frypan and Jorge, showing that they were all working on other things, that they found hobbies to keep themselves out of mischief - well, for the most part!
> 
> You can use any song you like for the party - hence why I didn't add any lyrics in - but I imagine the song "From Now On" from Greatest Showman! I LOVE THIS ONE OKAY. So if you listen to the end (eg from about 1:40 onwards), you've got the beat and guitar and piano and the singing and clapping, and the words "and we will come back home, and we will come back home, home again ..." which is kinda referenced in that last paragraph. I don't know, I can just picture them all dancing to this - and the song fills me with such great joy that reading them dancing to it, I can't stop smiling. (ALSO! "Let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart" line at the end of the song!! AHHHHH!!!)  
> Also, we're about to dive into a lot a LOT of ANGST. So. Trying to squeeze as many happy moments in as I can before stuff hits the fan ":D
> 
> AND, SCENE.
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos. Would love to know what your thoughts are, and what you thought of the party - I really hope it gave you a good smile and laugh! Hope you're all still enjoying the story <3 have a good week, stay safe! <3


	5. Set in Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’ll have scanned them like they did with you last time,” Brenda interjected. “Janson will know for sure you’re going back for Minho.”  
> Lesley felt something deflate in her chest. “He’ll be waiting.”  
> “Exactly!” Vince exclaimed. “You wanna just waltz into WCKD’s max security building? You think they’re just gonna let you?”  
> “You gotta remember it’s me,” Thomas said, a hard edge to his voice. “I might be the only person able to walk through those doors if all else fails.”  
> The room erupted in protest.  
> “Oh, come on!”  
> “No way, man -”  
> “That kind of thinking is going to get you killed -”  
> “They won’t let you walk out alive,” Vince growled. “And don’t you dare say anything about exchanging yourself for Minho. We’re all going to the Safe Haven.”  
> Lesley and Brenda shared a long look.
> 
> (in which WCKD is on the hunt, Lesley and Thomas make a plan, and Newt makes an executive decision.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back again!! Enjoy, can't wait to hear your thoughts! :D

An hour later the party had died down, with most people departing to their respective sleeping quarters, a few still singing merrily. Once the Gladers were the only ones sitting by the fireside, Thomas abruptly stood up with the announcement that he had an idea; he took off towards the map room, and was quickly followed by Vince, Newt, Lesley, Frypan, and Brenda.

Lesley looked about the space, her eyes narrowing in on the scribbled timetables plastered to one of the walls, pinned alongside maps of the railroads stretching across the Scorch. She made a mental note to snatch one before she left.

Thomas grabbed one of the maps, worn and creased from use, and slammed it down on the table. He opened it up, and after a moment of frantically scanning the paper, he stabbed a finger at one of the marked cities.

“There, that’s it,” he said with conviction, glancing up at all of them. “It’s a few hundred miles. Based on the railways, everything that Aris told us ... that’s gotta be where they’ve headed. That’s where they’re taking Minho.” Thomas paused, his eyes alight in the way they always were when he had a plan. He looked at Vince. “We take everyone who can fight. Follow the roads where we can. We can make it back within a week.”

Lesley held her breath, hardly daring to hope. Maybe she wouldn’t have to do this alone.

Vince stared at the desk for a long moment, his expression unreadable. In the months that had passed since WCKD had attacked the Right Arm, Vince had become a father figure to the Gladers, someone a little older with several more years of experience under their belt that they could look up to and seek advice from; someone they could relay their plans and ideas to for feedback.

“A _week_?” Vince started, his voice hard. “It took us six months to get _here_.” He jabbed at another point on the map, where they had hijacked the WCKD train only hours before. “We got over a hundred kids here now. We can’t just hang out here forever after what we just pulled!” He shook his head in disbelief. “You wanna wander off to some random point on the map? You don’t even know what’s there!”

“I do,” Jorge spoke up quietly, moving out of the shadows.

All heads turned to look at him. Lesley tightened her fingers around the mug in her hands; the tea was bitter and barely drinkable, but at least it kept her hands warm. Beside her, Newt did the same, a crease appearing his brow. Now was not the time for moonshine.

Jorge peered at the map carefully. “It’s been a few years, but I’ve been there. The Last City. That’s what WCKD called it,” he explained, his expression darkening. “It was their whole base of operation.”

There was a long pause. “Maybe they’re still using it,” Lesley ventured carefully. “They’d have razed the place to the ground otherwise.”

Newt hummed thoughtfully. “To stop people like us getting their hands on their equipment.”

Jorge nodded. “If that city is still standing ...” He leaned against the table, staring levelly at Thomas, “that’s the last place you wanna go, hermano,” he finished quietly. “That’s the lion’s den.”

“It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” Thomas countered.

“Yeah, with months of planning,” Vince argued, “and reliable information, the element of surprise ... none of which we have now!”

“They’ll have scanned them like they did with you last time,” Brenda interjected. “Janson will know for sure you’re going back for Minho.”

Lesley felt something deflate in her chest. “He’ll be waiting.”

“Exactly!” Vince exclaimed. “You wanna just waltz into WCKD’s max security building? You think they’re just gonna _let_ you?”

“You gotta remember it’s me,” Thomas said, a hard edge to his voice. “I might be the only person able to walk through those doors if all else fails.”

The room erupted in protest; Lesley rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on!”

“No way, man -”

“That kind of thinking is going to get you killed -”

“They won’t let you walk out alive,” Vince growled. “And don’t you dare say anything about exchanging yourself for Minho. We’re _all_ going to the Safe Haven.”

Lesley and Brenda shared a long look.

“Vince, I’ve thought this through,” Thomas told him adamantly, his voice steadily rising in volume. “Would you just hear me out -!”

“Hey!” Vince shouted back. “The last time we went off half-cocked, I lost everything! You remember that?”

Lesley inhaled sharply. Vince rarely spoke about that night in the Scorch; the image of him cradling Mary’s lifeless body in his arms flashed through her mind.

They had been winging it then, and had all paid a great price for it.

Thomas looked away, falling silent, and Lesley could see the guilt churning in his eyes.

Vince sighed. “Look,” he said, less harshly, “I know it’s Minho. Alright? But you can’t ask me to put those kids on the line for one man.” He took a step away from the table. “I won’t do it.”

_“Searching the grid now ... A is completed ...”_

Their heads whipped around as the radio on the workbench crackled to life, muffled voices emerging from the speakers.

_“Copy that.”_

_“Scanning B-sector now.”_

One by one, their eyes drifted to the ceiling at the unmistakeable sound of multiple aircraft in the vicinity, a low rumble that filled the room and sent their hearts racing with dread.

“ _Shuck_ ,” Lesley exhaled, her gut clenching.

“Shit. Hit the lights!” Thomas exclaimed.

All but dropping their mugs of tea, Lesley and Newt punched off the lamps on the bench behind them. Jorge raced across the room and slammed his hand down on the power switch; there was a whir as the main generator powered down, and a moment later Jorge sprinted outside with Newt, Brenda and Frypan to check the main homesteads and the scattered shacks around the dock area.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Vince shouted.

As the lamps went out one by one in the boat sheds, their inhabitants scrambling for cover, Lesley, Vince and Thomas rushed out onto the beach for a better look, their feet sinking in the damp sand.

“They must have doubled the patrols,” Lesley breathed, somewhat awed that they were wanted by WCKD so badly. Their heist had possibly impacted their organisation more than they imagined.

“It’s a darn good thing your tags only work at close range, or we’d’ve been toast months ago,” Vince growled.

The three of them watched the two bergs flying over the settlements a mile away, their light beams sweeping the area, closer than ever before. The only other sound apart from the hum of the engines was the gentle lapping of waves on the shoreline.

“They’re gonna find us sooner or later,” Lesley whispered.

Thomas swallowed audibly. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “We can’t stay here.”

Vince glanced warily at him as if searching for a sign of rebellion. Finally, he gripped his shoulder, nodding at Thomas before heading off to the main encampment to help calm any hysteria that had inevitably weaved itself in amongst their new arrivals.

Lesley exhaled sharply, an unexpected sense of clarity seeping into her thoughts. She suddenly realised that _this_ was her chance to get Minho back; fate had spurred things into motion in a way she couldn’t have expected, but could now work wholeheartedly in her favour. The more of them there were, the better chance they had. “I’ll go get the packs,” she said the moment Vince was out of earshot.

Thomas frowned, his expression slightly too exaggerated to get past Lesley. “What?” he began. “I -”

“Come on, you and I both know it,” she said impatiently, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him. “We’re going after Minho.”

Thomas immediately dropped the act. His face hardened. “Les, no, you can’t, I -”

“ _No_ , Thomas, this isn’t your decision to make; not this time,” Lesley snapped, somehow relishing the surge of anger through her veins. “You’re our leader, and I trust you. Hell, you’ve gotten us this far in the six months since the Right Arm camp. But Minho isn’t just - just _your_ friend, alright?”

She inwardly cursed the tremble in her voice, betraying her innermost feelings, even as Thomas’s expression softened.

“This isn’t just _your_ mission,” Lesley continued, her eyes blazing. “It’s _all_ of ours. You don’t get to say who goes with you, the same way you couldn’t stop the others following you because they were going to get their own friends back from WCKD.”

Thomas sighed. “There’s no way I can talk you out of this, is there?”

“Not a chance,” Lesley replied firmly, her voice like steel. “Besides, _you_ can’t drive those trucks, remember? I can.”

Thomas’s expression flattened. He knew she had a point.

Lesley swallowed hard. She clenched her fists to quell the sudden tremors. “Thomas ... this is _Minho_ ,” she said, the hard edge to her voice gone and replaced with something far more vulnerable. “After what we’ve been through together, you can’t ask me to stand by and not help you rescue him.” The determination returned to her eyes. “Whatever crazy plan you’re thinking of, I’ve already signed up for.”

Thomas was quiet for a moment. “And what you said about Janson?”

Lesley scoffed. “Of course he’s going to be waiting for us. And I’m gonna be second in line to pull that trigger on him, mark my words.”

He didn’t doubt it for a second. Thomas looked at her for a few seconds, and eventually nodded. His gaze flicked back to the bergs that were slowly moving in the opposite direction. “We’ll leave as soon as the others are asleep,” he told her. “I’ll grab the food supplies; I’ll meet you at your hammock when it’s time.”

At the compliance, the anger abruptly drained out of Lesley, leaving her feeling almost giddy with relief. She raised her eyebrows. “That sounds like an invitation if anything, sir,” she teased, a sense of purpose thrumming beneath her skin once more, her heart beating with a more hopeful rhythm, with _excitement_.

Looking relieved by the change in her mood, Thomas threw her a small smile and tipped an imaginary hat. “Just between us, milady.”

o-o-o-o-o

Lesley stormed through the shacks like a whirlwind. “Brenda?” she hissed into the darkness, trying to make herself heard over the concerned murmurs of the other survivors, crouched in their designated huts. “Brenda?”

“Right here.”

Brenda appeared out of the gloom like a ghostly apparition, a flashlight in hand.

Relief flitted across Lesley’s expression. “We need to talk,” she whispered. “And we don’t have much time.”

Brenda jerked her head, beckoning for Lesley to follow, and led her through another shed to a secluded corner away from the others. Out of earshot, Lesley exhaled heavily. “We’re leaving,” she said. “Tonight, once everyone is asleep.”

To her surprise, Brenda merely shrugged. “I figured as much, after you and Thomas went off by yourselves for a while. You’re both too stubborn to let this drop.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Lesley conceded, amused. She tugged a worn piece of paper from her pocket, unfolding it and shoving it into Brenda’s hands. “Look,” she breathed, pointing to the markings on the terrain. “I need you to see this; this here is the gateway to this supposed city. But it’s -”

“A tunnel,” Brenda finished, her eyes widening as comprehension dawned.

Lesley nodded. “And if it’s anything like what we experienced back in the Scorch, we’re gonna need all hands on deck.”

The memory of those dark, graffitied concrete hallways still haunted her nightmares, of the distant screams that echoed eerily in the blackness. Of the monsters, lurking beneath twisted veins as rats scuttled about.

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Brenda nodded firmly, determination settling on her features. “So, what’s the plan?”

o-o-o-o-o

With the low rumble of the bergs fading into the night, a mandatory blackout and curfew was imposed across the camp for those still awake. As he waited for the people around him to fall asleep, Thomas tossed and turned in his hammock, his heart hammering with anticipation while his thoughts ran a mile a minute.

Finally, it was time. Slipping out from beneath the blanket, he tugged on his boots and grabbed his pack, slinging it over one of his shoulders. Moving slowly so as not to make any noise, he crept past Harriet and Sonya, neither of the two waking.

As he passed the far corner of their boat shed, Thomas saw the dark outline of someone under the covers of Lesley’s hammock. Sighing with relief, he turned to head down the connecting passageway -

Thomas froze as he felt the butt of a weapon press into his shoulder.

“Nice try,” Lesley smirked, stepping out of the shadows; he should have known better than to try and get past her. She shouldered her pack and put her knife away. “Come on, let’s go. Blankets,” she added in response the question in Thomas’s eyes. “Thought it might buy us some time if they actually thought we were asleep.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Thomas followed her down the corridor a moment later, the two of them silently snaking their way through the camp. Lesley’s heart raced, overly conscious of the snoring around them, uncomfortably aware of every little noise. Without encountering anyone, they reached the top of the stairs that led into the sheltered area where the trucks were parked. All was dark, all was quiet.

“Where do you think you’re going, then?” came an accented voice.

Lesley froze as a lamp flickered to life to reveal Newt standing there, leaning against their workbench in a way that suggested he’d known they were coming.

“Newt,” Thomas greeted resignedly.

Lesley grinned sheepishly, throwing him a wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

The corners of Newt’s mouth quirked upwards as he started towards them. “Come on, don’t be a twat about it. Either of you,” he added, glancing at Lesley as he took the pack off her hands. “I’m already in. Come on.”

Thomas started as Newt turned towards the truck. “No, Newt. No, not this time,” he tried.

Lesley almost laughed. “Thomas, hey,” she started gently, forcing herself to keep the reproach out of her voice. “Remember what I said? It’s _our_ mission.”

Thomas bit his lip anxiously, his gaze swinging back to Newt. “Look, even if we find Minho there’s no guarantee we make it back from this.”

Newt raised his eyebrows. “Well, you’ll need all the help you can get then, won’t you?”

He turned and opened the jeep door. The internal light flickered on, revealing Frypan sitting behind the wheel, grinning impishly at them.

The sight tugged at Lesley’s emotions, her heart near to bursting with love for her brothers. Here they were, the original Glader crew; the last ones standing, all of them prepared to dive into the depths of hell to save one of their own.

Leaning back against the truck with his arms folded, Newt’s gaze was steady and earnest. “Well, we started this together,” he told them softly, something surprisingly tender flicking across his features. “May as well end it that way, too.”

Thomas was quiet for a moment. “Okay,” he said finally, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s go get him back.”

Lesley smiled; _they all needed each other_. “Good that,” she said, grabbing Frypan’s hand and letting him pull her into the jeep.

“Here we go, sister!” Frypan grinned.

Newt clambered into the back beside Lesley while Thomas took the passenger seat, the worn map clenched tightly in his hands. Without another word, Frypan started the engine and they set off into the night, the four Gladers leaving their makeshift safe haven behind them, the road ahead clear and frightening all at once.

Lesley stared out the back window, watching as the ocean disappeared behind a sandy hill. Massaging her wrist, her gaze shifted to the night sky, looking at the stars twinkling high above them.

_Hold on, Min. We’re coming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this latest update!! Things are starting to pick up speed a little; there’s a few extra lines here and there - which I love doing!! Like in that planning scene at the start of the chapter.
> 
> (Also, sorry for the delay. I wasn’t happy with how one part of the scene was working so I completely rewrote part of it - but that also meant fixing up a couple of later scenes as well so I had to make sure it all flowed nicely first! But now it's all good and I'm very happy with the result. I guess sometimes an extra round of editing pays off haha)
> 
> So Lesley sees an opportunity to go and save Minho WITH her friends rather than by herself. Because, let’s face it, humans are selfish creatures and she NEEDS her Glader brothers more than she wants to admit. I really love her little conversation with Thomas, and I hope you did as well! I feel like Thomas deserved the talking to (in the best way possible!!) because as she said, it's not just about him. It's about all of them, and he isn't the only one who is desperately missing Minho.  
> (Also another little Lesley and Brenda moment!! I love the idea of those two working together like that)
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you're enjoying the story!! Hope you're all having a good week <3
> 
> (PS: go check out my latest fic!! Newtmas titanic au ;) if you're interested!)


	6. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he sank to his knees, his head in his hands, Newt’s voice rang out. “You abandoned me too, Minho.”  
> Minho choked, scrambling forward, but the image disappeared, his fingers grasping at air where clothing and skin had been a split second earlier. “No - NO, Newt!”  
> Lesley reappeared, her expression unreadable. “You were always too late.”
> 
> (in which Minho wakes, the past haunts him, and reality is a twisted mess.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!!! This one is a LOT shorter than usual, but there will be another chapter up soon :) just because I wanted to keep the events of this one separate.  
> Anyway, enjoy! xx

_Minho woke up._

_Warm sunlight filtered through the tree hanging over him, the branches and their leaves swaying gently in the light wind. He inhaled deeply, and his eyes widened at the smell of grass, dirt and smoked meat that filled the air._

_A mixture of scents that were all too familiar, etched into his mind, body and soul._

_He staggered to his feet, his mouth falling open in horror. “No,” he choked out, staring at his surroundings, his chest suffocatingly tight._

_There was the Homestead, the Deadheads; the showers, the gardens. And rising up around him, gargantuan and intimidating, were the stone ivy walls that had enclosed their little piece of paradise._

_Everything in the Glade was as he remembered. Shuck, he could even see lazy piles of smoke rising from the general direction of the Kitchens._

_The fields were eerily quiet; he was alone. There wasn’t another soul to be seen, when there should have been crowds of boys wandering around, doing chores, laughing and chattering and eating ... or running the Maze._

_The faint chink of metal against stone sent a shudder down his spine, a sound heard on only two occasions: the induction of a Greenie, or the death of a Glader._

_There. People, standing in front of the name wall, carving._

_Chuck. Winston. Alby._

_Brothers whose lives he’d seen snatched away before his very eyes._

_Desperation clawed at Minho, his vision swimming. “Hey!” he called out raggedly._

_The three boys turned to look at him, but said nothing, gave no indication they cared to take the interaction further. Minho felt a hollow sensation spreading out from his chest._

_The sudden sound of footsteps startled him._

_There, sprinting through the lush grass across the clearing as if he were being chased. It was a small Asian kid, maybe ten years old. He wore the same clothes Minho did, blue shirt and grey pants, his black hair sticking up in all directions in an eerily similar way to his own style._

_“Hey!” Minho called out._

_The boy didn’t stop, running towards the gap in the walls. Curiosity accompanied the sickening sensation of dread as Minho took off after him. Putting on a burst of speed, memories crowding the forefront of his mind, he crossed the threshold and ran straight into the ivy passage that marked the beginning of the giant labyrinth._

_The world turned black as fast as someone flicking a switch, and when the darkness lifted he found himself standing in a long, empty concrete tunnel that reeked of mould and damp, lit by bright lamps at regular intervals._

_The child was nowhere to be seen._

_“Hello?” Minho shouted._

_Gritting his teeth, he sprinted down the hallway, hoping that some kind of movement would at least get him somewhere, frightened of what lay in the darkness._

_“Why did you leave me?”_

_Skidding to a halt, his heart thrashing within his ribcage, Minho whirled around, Lesley’s voice coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. “Shank?” he whispered tentatively._

_A flicker of movement; Lesley, standing there with wide eyes, her chest heaving. “Why did you leave me?!” she suddenly screamed._

_Minho stumbled backwards. “I never wanted to!” he cried, shrinking back against the icy concrete wall. “I couldn’t - I -”_

_Memories hit him in flashes. A surge of adrenaline; sheer terror; masked figures charging out of orange smoke; Lesley darting in front of him; her body; a blinding blue light; her eyes -_

_He had woken an indeterminable amount of time later in a WCKD holding cell, his body throbbing and a headache pounding behind his eyes as Aris frantically slapped his face to wake him._

_As he sank to his knees, his head in his hands, Newt’s voice rang out. “You abandoned me too, Minho.”_

_Another flash of light; a crumpled form at the bottom of a towering wall of vines; a limb splayed awkwardly -_

_Minho choked, scrambling forward, but the image disappeared, his fingers grasping at air where clothing and skin had been a split second earlier. “No - NO, Newt!”_

_Lesley reappeared, her expression unreadable. “You were always too late.”_

_Without warning, a Griever lunged out of the darkness, teeth bared. Minho cried out, lurching backwards in horror. It violently grabbed Lesley in its claws, sending her crashing to the concrete, and dragged her away as she shrieked in terror._

_“LESLEY!” Minho screamed, snapping out of his shock and charging after the Griever as fast as his legs could carry him; he stumbled, crashing against the wall._

_The creature bowled down the corridor, its piercing roars echoing down the tunnel as he went right, left, another left -_

_“MINHO!” Lesley screamed as she was dragged around another corner, scrabbling for a hold on the concrete._

_“HOLD ON, LES!” Minho bellowed, terror squeezing his chest like a vice._

_The lights suddenly flickered out, plunging the corridor into blackness; when they came on again, Lesley was gone and the hallway was silent._

_Minho whirled around, his eyes wide. “LESLEY!”_

_Ice cold sweat trickled down his spine._

_“MINHO!” an accented voice roared down the tunnel, sourceless and echoing eerily off the walls. Faint footsteps flitted around him from all directions. “Where the bloody hell are ya?!”_

_“NEWT!” Minho yelled hoarsely, looking around wildly as he surged forward, running blindly down the dimly-lit passageways. “Newt! Thomas!”_

_“MINHO!” Thomas yelled back._

_There was a loud hissing noise that had him skidding to a stop, followed by a familiar click-clack sound that made his heart plummet in terror. No, no, no, no, no -_

_His vision suddenly changed, a flash image of three people standing over him in white lab coats, shining bright lights into his eyes. He gasped in shock, lurching backwards, and the apparition - hallucination - whatever it was - abruptly vanished, leaving him alone in an empty corridor._

_Click-clack. Hisssss._

_Well, not quite alone._

_Minho scrambled along the corridor away from the sound, the overhead lights flashing sporadically and causing him to squint against the glare. All the while he couldn’t shake the frantic thoughts careening around his mind, wondering just where the hell he was._

_A roar, and the Griever burst into the passageway behind him._

_“Oh, shit!” Minho yelled, throwing himself down an adjacent hallway. He kept running, the Griever moving parallel to him._

_At an intersection in the passageway, Minho took a sharp turn - slipping in a puddle of slime that made his heart-rate skyrocket - and found himself crashing to a halt again, his throat so tight with terror he could hardly breathe, only able to exhale in ragged pants._

_The corridor was a dead-end. He was staring at a brick wall._

_As if he were suddenly a magnet, defying all logic and gravity, Minho was hurled upwards against the concrete ceiling by an invisible force. He strained, pulling at his arms, his legs, but it was to no avail; he was completely paralysed, unable to move anything except his face. Cold sweat drenched his entire body, beads trailing down from his hairline._

_Click-clack. Click-clack._

_Closer and closer. A low hiss. He couldn’t see it; could only hear it. He wanted to close his eyes, but somehow couldn’t. Shuck, he was going to vomit, or pass out -_

_And then a gnarled appendage slammed into the concrete barely a foot from his head as the monster came into view below him, snarling. Staring down into the gaping jaws of the Griever, Minho screamed and screamed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! A much shorter chapter than everyone (including me!!) is used to, but it does extend the movie scene.
> 
> First off, it took me several times watching TDC before I realised that yes, it was Alby, Chuck and Winston at the name wall, and when I realised I literally FLIPPED. I was like!!!!!! And it got me thinking of other moments, and it made me want to add to this scene. 
> 
> (Also there’s something very different about this fic. The other two stayed with Lesley pretty much the whole time, bar a few scenes. In this one, I’m giving a bit of fic time to ALL of them, so there will be a lot of different perspectives ahead which I’m really looking forward to sharing!)
> 
> I feel so sorry for hurting Minho, though. For adding in about Newt - (um, possible spoilers??) - which I think is traumatic enough that he never would have forgotten it. I think that’s something I’ve really tried to touch on in this pics - just how much these poor kids have suffered. The movies really gloss over it but these guys have seen some truly awful things, have watched their friends die, they’ve been driven to dehydration and starvation in an attempt to escape the very adults who /should have been protecting them/.
> 
> Once again, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic! Thank you for keeping me inspired <3 (also shoutout to all my new readers! Born to Run is suddenly picking up speed again and I am amazed and truly grateful!)
> 
> PS: a comment would really be appreciated. I'm kinda losing a bit of motivation here, and it's been one hell of a week.


	7. Darkness Beckons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A faded, crumpled piece of newspaper hit Lesley’s boot. Stooping down, she grabbed it, her eyes skimming the faint text. “Help Stop the Spread of the Flare!” the title read.  
> Lesley’s jaw tightened.  
> “At this time, citizens must unite to prevent further spread of this pandemic. By learning how to recognise yourself and others as Viral Contagion Threats (VCTs) you will take the first step in the battle against the Flare.”
> 
> (in which Lesley reads a piece of history, the Gladers make terrible jokes, and Frypan takes an unusual driving test.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little later than usual, but here we go!! Enjoy! <3

Lesley opened her eyes, blinking dazedly at the sunlight streaming in through the dirty windows of the jeep. The words _WCKD OR BUST_ had been scrawled into the grime in Newt’s handwriting. She grinned, cracking open the window and inhaling the fresh air.

Frypan glanced over his shoulder at the squeak of the window crank. “Morning, sleeping beauty,” he chirped. She laughed, reaching forward to punch his shoulder.

They had driven through the night, taking turns to rest since Frypan and Lesley were the only two who had learnt to drive the truck during their months on the run - thanks to many, _many_ lessons from Vince. Lesley could still remember the time Fry had accidentally reversed into the side of a mountain after putting the truck in the wrong gear. She loved driving because it was the one time she felt truly in control of something in a world dictated by WCKD.

“We’re here,” Newt announced, reaching into the front seat and gently shaking Thomas to alertness; he hummed in response.

Frypan slowed the truck’s pace, driving cautiously into the area. Lesley shuddered as her gaze drifted around the abandoned checkpoint. Other rusting vehicles were strewn about, empty and unwanted; posters covered the barbed fences, warning of the dreaded signs of infection.  
  


_ERRATIC VIOLENCE, FITFUL MOTIONS, VOMITING, COUGHING, FEVER;_

_AVOID CONTACT WITH ANY INDIVIDUALS WITH SYMPTOMS;_

_CONTACT WCKD AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY._   
  


“Doesn’t look like the world’s gotten any better closer to WCKD, does it?” Lesley mused, staring out the window and absentmindedly running a hand over her arm.

“You cold?” Thomas asked, glancing down at the action.

She shook her head, throwing him a small smile. “Just a little nervous.”

His return smile was tight. “Me, too.”

Frypan pulled the jeep to a stop in the middle of the abandoned road. As soon as the handbrake was on, the four of them clambered out to inspect their surroundings. The checkpoint was eerily silent; there wasn’t another living thing to be seen. A gentle breeze sent a few scattered pieces of discoloured paper blowing around, a lone tumbleweed rolling across the road.

A faded, crumpled piece of newspaper hit Lesley’s boot. Stooping down, she grabbed it, her eyes skimming the faint text. _“Help Stop the Spread of the Flare!”_ the title read.

Lesley’s jaw tightened.

_“At this time, citizens must unite to prevent further spread of this pandemic. By learning how to recognise yourself and others as Viral Contagion Threats (VCTs) you will take the first step in the battle against the Flare.”_

_Sure_ , she thought.

_“All government entities have adopted a zero-tolerance policy for dealing with VCTs. Any attempt to hide or conceal symptoms or those exhibiting symptoms will be met with severe punishment -”_

Swallowing thickly, Lesley balled the newspaper up and threw it to the ground.

His hand resting on the gun at his waist, Newt gestured towards the tunnel that stood ahead, looking over his shoulder at Thomas. “You want us to go in there?”

The rest of them slowly came to a stop beside him. Lesley had her hands on her hips. “Looks a bit creepy,” she announced, forcing an air of bravado.

The tunnel was pitch black, devoid of any light; they couldn’t even see through to the exit on the other side, no matter how much they squinted their eyes. It cut straight through the sandstone mountain looming over them.

“I don’t wanna come across as too negative,” Newt began, “but, I mean, if I was a Crank, that’s _exactly_ where I would be.”

Lesley stiffened, biting the inside of her cheek.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Thomas told him, finally lifting his gaze from the map in his hands to look at Newt and Frypan.

Forcing herself to relax, Lesley stared at the map over Thomas’s shoulder. “This is the fastest way,” she said, confirming Thomas’s words. “It looks like all the other routes were sealed off.”

The four of them stared silently into the impenetrable blackness of the tunnel for a long moment; none of them knew what horrors awaited them, but they could guess.

“Alright,” Newt said finally, turning back to the jeep. “I get shotgun.”

The three boys were already sitting in the truck before they realised that Lesley was still standing where they had left her, staring at the tunnel. Frowning, Newt clambered out of the vehicle again and cautiously moved towards her, unnerved by her sudden stillness. “Les?” he asked quietly, seeing the distant expression on her face.

She flinched as if she hadn’t heard him approach, and when she turned to look at him there was a vague, haunted look in her eyes.

“We gotta go through there?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Yeah?”

Newt tentatively touched her arm. “No other way around,” he told her gently. “You said it yourself, remember?”

He thought he saw a flash of uncertainty across her features, but it was so fast he couldn’t properly place it. He tilted his head. “Les, if you’re scared about the Cranks -” he began.

Lesley’s expression suddenly hardened. “Minho’s more important,” she bit out. She jerked her head. “Let’s go.”

She moved before Newt could open his mouth again.

o-o-o-o-o

The four of them collectively drew their breaths as they passed into the shadow of the underpass; Lesley was startled by the intense blackness, and pulled her jacket tighter around her as they were met by the unexpectedly chill air out of the sun’s heat.

As they turned a corner and the tunnel entrance disappeared from view, Frypan flicked a switch, powering up the truck’s extra headlights. He exhaled deeply. “Well, here we go.”

Newt swung his torch beam around the tunnel, leaning out the window. “Yeah, just take it nice and slow,” he told Frypan.

“That’s what she said,” Lesley smirked. Frypan snorted and Newt rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as the tension in the air dissipated to a more tolerable level.

Their speed was agonisingly sluggish. Frypan kept his foot pressed tentatively to the accelerator as they plunged deeper. The pitch-black corridor was littered with debris and forsaken vehicles. There were rusting cans and tins, oil barrels, makeshift shelters; all looked long since abandoned.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Thomas suddenly garbled. Frypan hit the brakes, pulling the jeep to an abrupt stop as they saw what Thomas was staring at.

Straight ahead of them was a Crank, hunched over and mercifully facing the other way. Its body jerked, and a faint gagging sound could be heard from it.

“What do we do?” Lesley whispered. His eyes wide, Frypan turned around to look at Thomas, waiting for instructions.

Thomas swallowed thickly. “Newt,” he choked out. “Wind up the window. Slowly.”

His face white with terror, Newt ducked back into the cab with deliberate precision, shaking fingers winding the window back up.

Exhaling heavily, Thomas glanced at all three of them. “It’s okay,” he assured them. “It’s just one, so ... so take it slow, go around him.” He nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

The tension in the air was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

Finally, Frypan turned back around in his seat. “Take it slow,” he repeated quietly.

And that was when they saw the pale woman standing outside the back window, her face pressed against the glass.

Thomas rocketed backwards into Lesley, who swore loudly. Newt and Frypan spun around, eyes bulging.

“Please, help me,” the woman begged. She began to jiggle the door handle. “Please.”

Another hand hit the glass next to Lesley; she scrambled back against Thomas at the sight of the deformed, infected man pressed against the truck window. “Please, let me in!” he moaned.

“Shuck,” Lesley whimpered.

Thomas swallowed audibly. “Okay, Fry, we gotta go -”

“Please open the door!” someone else screamed.

Their heads whipped around as more hands began to slam against the truck, a haunting, pounding drumbeat, infected faces emerging out of the darkness like the visions of terror that disturbed their sleep at night, all rotting flesh and missing teeth, black veins trailing across their faces.

“We need to go right now!” Newt exclaimed.

“Why won’t you open it?” another Crank wailed.

“Just floor it, Fry!” Thomas yelled.

There was a thud on the roof.

“DRIVE!” Lesley screamed.

Frypan wrenched the truck into gear. “Hold on!”

“Floor it, come on!” Thomas bellowed. “Go, go, go!”

Frypan hit the accelerator, and all of them were thrown backwards in their seats at the sudden lurch forward. Bizarrely, Lesley was struck by a vague memory about buckling up her seatbelt, but the thought was tossed aside as she was hurled sideways into Thomas, knocking the air out of them both.

“Keep moving!” Newt roared, one foot jammed against the dashboard and one of his hands gripping the roof handle for dear life, his knuckles white.

Cranks were flying everywhere, screeching heinously as Frypan’s erratic driving threw them clear of the vehicle, the truck lurching nauseatingly; there was the thud of bodies hitting the ground every few seconds.

“I can’t see shit!” Frypan howled.

Grabbing the back of his seat, Lesley stared out the now bloodied and grimy windscreen and gasped in horror; a Crank clung to the hood of the jeep, leering at them through the glass, black liquid pooling from his lips.

“Come on, Fry, shake him!” Newt yelled.

“I’M TRYING!”

The Crank suddenly slammed a brick into the windscreen; a massive spiderweb of cracks appeared across the glass. Lesley screamed.

“Hang on!” Frypan yelled, jerking the truck sideways and catching the Crank on a jutting piece of metal of an abandoned vehicle. The Crank was wrenched off their truck, and Lesley suddenly felt like she could breathe again.

Thomas’s gaze snapped back to the front of the truck, and his eyes widened. “FRYPAN, WATCH OUT!”

The right side of their truck slammed into another vehicle; the wheels locked and the jeep rolled. An awful weightlessness seized them, all of them barely having enough time to grab onto anything before they tumbled head over heels, Frypan trapped behind the steering wheel, Newt’s head slamming against the ceiling, Thomas and Lesley crashing into one another in the back seat.

Finally, the jeep lost momentum; with the groan of straining metal, the wrecked vehicle lurched to a stop on its roof. A moment later, the lights went out, plunging them all into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! This one is also a little shorter, but it was the best place to split the chapter before heading into the next action-packed scene! Also I apologise that this one was delayed, I've been making a few changes because I wasn't happy with how some of the extra dialogue was flowing, but it's good to go now! I've been borrowing a couple of lines from my Jumanji fic, so a few little bits might sound familiar.
> 
> The newspaper is part of the promotional material used for the books and movies, so I just quoted it. It was a very interesting read, considering what’s going on in our world today! I’d be lying if I said the events of Death Cure weren’t hitting a little close to home at the moment. Makes it a little tougher to write it but ah well.
> 
> I've been working on a couple of the upcoming scenes. I'm so excited to share the rest of this fic with you all!! There's so many great character moments and extra scenes I just. AHHH!!! I hope you'll enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them.
> 
> Once again, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic! Thank you for keeping me inspired <3


	8. WCKD or Bust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She grabbed for her belt, her heart stuttering when she realised she didn’t have any clips. “Shit -”  
> “Lesley!” Newt roared, tossing something to her.  
> Her heart leaped as she caught it. A spare.  
> In one swift move she ejected the empty mag and shoved the new ammo in. “Cover your ears!” she shouted.  
> Bang bang bang bang bang! The excruciating roar made Lesley grit her teeth as she fired again and again in all directions, Newt and Thomas and Frypan ducking down to give her every target possible.  
> “Go, Lesley, go!” Thomas yelled.
> 
> (in which the Gladers are surrounded, Lesley and Frypan make one badass team, and someone unexpectedly comes to the rescue.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished this one sooner than expected :D enjoy!! xx

Blinking dazedly, Lesley groaned lowly, a sharp ringing in her ears; she could feel the warm trickle of blood down the side of her face, her head pounding. She coughed, the dust scratching her throat.

A muffled voice. “Ow, my hand.” Frypan.

Lesley blinked, jolted back to alertness, to _panic_ , as she abruptly remembered where they were - in an upturned jeep in the middle of a Crank-infested tunnel. “Thomas?” she gasped.

“Here,” he replied hoarsely from just above her.

Lesley’s head was involuntarily shifted sideways; she realised it had been resting on his stomach. She pulled herself upright, feeling the flutter of relief in her chest at a strained, “Oh, bloody buggering hell,” from the front of the truck.

There was a sharp _click_ from beside her. Lesley hissed, wincing as the cabin exploded with light; Thomas muttered an apology, turning the flashlight away.

When the door wouldn’t budge, Lesley gritted her teeth and slammed her boot against the window with Newt’s handwriting on it. It broke instantly under the weight.

_WCKD or bust,_ she thought glumly, clambering out through the window on her hands and knees, wary of the glass fragments littering the ground.

“You good?” she asked as Thomas crawled out behind her.

He coughed, dust swirling in the light around him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he wheezed.

“Good that,” Lesley said. She peered back in through the window, catching a glimpse of Newt and Frypan, their legs crammed awkwardly against the dashboard. “Hang on, you two!”

Thomas wrenched on the driver’s door but it barely opened an inch, the frame wedged against the ground. He looked about frantically. “Go around, go around!” he called, signalling to Lesley.

She rushed ahead of him, her heart hammering in her chest. However, she had barely touched the front passenger’s door when it came flying open and Newt tumbled out, coughing.

“Newt, you alright?” Thomas asked immediately as Newt stumbled to his feet, reaching out a hand to steady him.

“Yeah, I think so. Les?”

Lesley nodded. “Peachy.”

Thomas peered into the jeep, shining the torch around. “Fry, you good?”

“Yeah, man.” Frypan’s feet appeared as he clambered out of the vehicle. “Damn, that was one hell of a -”

A piercing, anguished scream suddenly echoed up the tunnel. Lesley, Newt and Thomas whirled around to see a Crank stumbling towards them, the infected man’s grotesque features twisted in a snarl.

Newt reached for his gun, but glanced down with panicked eyes when he realised the holster at his waist was empty, the weapon dislodged during the crash. “Oh, _shit_.”

“Frypan, I think we gotta move!” Thomas called, unable to drag his horrified gaze away from the Crank. “Now!”

“Oh, my God,” Lesley uttered weakly.

Still sat on the ground, Frypan spun on his backside and crawled back inside the jeep. “Wait a minute!”

The Crank continued to scream.

“Right now!” Thomas roared, shining his torch into the truck to try see what the _hell_ Frypan was looking for. “Come on, what are you doing?”

“We gotta move, come on!” Lesley screamed, clutching Newt’s arm as she stumbled backwards. “FRYPAN!”

Another wail, mixed with a retching, gagging sound, stumbling closer -

“Hold on!” Frypan shouted.

“Hurry up!” Thomas yelled. “Come on, we gotta go!”

Lesley threw her knife; it sunk into the rotting flesh of the Crank’s eye socket, but didn’t slow it. “Fry!” she screeched.

“Bloody _hell_ -!”

Rocketing backwards out of the truck, Frypan leaped to his feet, the roar of a gunshot echoing around the tunnel and making Lesley slam her hands over her ears. The Crank shuddered and collapsed to the ground mere feet from them, going still.

“Nice shot, Fry,” Thomas panted, eyeing the shotgun.

Frypan nodded dazedly, staring at the Crank. “Thanks.”

Lesley shook her head. “That was _too_ close,” she growled, stomping forward and snatching her knife up, grimacing at the slime coating it. Shucking hell, she needed to get a grip. “Next time I’m not waiting -”

A bellowing, angry roar thundered up the tunnel. Their heads whipped around at the spine-chilling sound.

“Cranks,” Newt whispered hoarsely.

They were swarming up the passage, at least fifty of them, stumbling and scrambling as they charged straight towards them.

“Okay, we gotta go,” Thomas said, grabbing at Newt’s arm and starting backwards down the tunnel. “Go, go -!”

“Wait!” Lesley shouted, spotting a gun wedged by the door of the upturned jeep. Hurtling forward, she snatched it up, realising it was Newt’s as she shoved it into the waistband of her pants. “Go, go, go!”

Charging through the darkness, they ducked and dived around the jagged outcrops of metal and abandoned cars strewn about the tunnel. Frypan slowed, turning to fire at the oncoming Cranks with deadly accuracy.

“Fry, come on, let’s go!” Thomas yelled. “Let’s go, come on! Leave it, just go!”

As another Crank dropped to the ground, Frypan sprinted to catch up, waving his arm. “Move it, people!”

“Go, go, go!” Newt roared.

Thomas’s flashlight beam ricocheted haphazardly around them as they tried to put as much distance between themselves and the horde as possible. Lesley’s chest was tight with panic, her lungs clawing for air, her legs burning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Thomas suddenly yelled, slamming to a halt and throwing his arms wide. “Shit!”

Lesley crashed into him, grunting as his arm collided painfully with her torso. “Thomas -!”

And then she saw. There were Cranks charging towards them from the opposite end of the passage as well.

They were trapped.

“Oh, shucking hell!” she yelled.

“Watch out!” Frypan called, desperately firing a couple of rounds into the mob, sending a few Cranks crashing to the ground like dominoes.

The roar of the gunshots wrenching her panic-stricken mind back into gear, Lesley jerked the handgun from her pants and flicked the safety off, swinging the weapon around.

All hell broke loose.

Newt and Thomas ducked, yelling out in shock at the burst of gunfire from Lesley. “Les -!” Newt started.

“Just get behind us!” Lesley roared, falling in step beside Frypan, her eyes alight and wild.

“Welcome to the party, sister!” Frypan yelled, throwing her a grin.

Adrenaline surged through Lesley’s veins as she fired round after round; for every infected person she took down, there were four, five, six more to replace them, a tidal wave of retching, veiny, grime-encrusted corpses. The sheer noise they made had the hairs shooting up on the back of Lesley’s neck, all high-pitched shrieking and blood-curdling snarls of rage.

But still the Cranks surged towards them.

Thomas span on his heel, the flashlight beam swinging about. “Okay, this way, this way!”

“We’re on it!” Lesley bit out, her hands and shoulders aching from the rebound shuddering through her arm with every shot. “I’ve got your six!” she roared at Frypan.

“Copy that!” he shrieked, firing another two rounds.

As he went to reload the chamber again, Frypan’s eyes widened in horror. “I’m out!”

Swearing, Lesley hammered the trigger with all her might, sweat pouring down her face. _There’s too many of them -_

The gun fell silent. She grabbed for her belt, her heart stuttering when she realised she didn’t have any clips. “ _Shit_ -”

“Lesley!” Newt roared, tossing something to her.

Her heart leaped as she caught it. _A spare_.

In one swift move she ejected the empty mag and shoved the new ammo in. “Cover your ears!” she shouted.

_Bang bang bang bang bang!_ The excruciating roar made Lesley grit her teeth as she fired again and again in all directions, Newt and Thomas and Frypan ducking down to give her every target possible.

“Go, Lesley, go!” Thomas yelled.

But there wasn’t enough; there _couldn’t_ be enough. All too soon, the last bullet was fired. “Shuck!” she screamed.

Newt staggered into Lesley as she threw the gun to the ground, staring in mounting terror at the approaching swarm of living dead.

“Shit!” Thomas swore.

They stumbled closer together, back to back. Her chest heaving, tears of dismay burning her eyes, Lesley snatched at Newt and Frypan’s hands, holding on for dear life. Her gaze darted wildly around the tunnel as she tried to focus on her friends; not on the bloodthirsty monsters surrounding them, pressing tighter with every passing second - closer, _closer_ -

The snarl of an engine had them spinning around, eyes wide. Cranks were violently thrown into the air in all directions, and Lesley was momentarily blinded by the bright beams of light as a rusting truck screeched into view.

There was only one person they knew who was mad enough to drive through a horde of infected like that.

“Jorge!” Lesley yelled joyously.

His face barely visible through the grime of the windscreen, Jorge slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a sharp stop in front of them and sending clouds of dust flying.

Brenda popped up through the broken sunroof, a gun clutched tightly in her hand. “Get in!” she roared, raising her weapon and firing at the oncoming Cranks.

Frypan, Newt, Thomas and Lesley sprinted for the truck. They piled in, scrambling over each other as they clambered onto the back of the vehicle and launched themselves through the windows.

“Go, Jorge, go!” Thomas shouted.

“Go!” Lesley shrieked as Newt ended up sprawled across her lap, spluttering swear words at the unceremonious landing.

“Hang tight!” Jorge yelled as Brenda ducked back down into the front seat, slamming his foot down on the accelerator.

They hurtled down the tunnel, charging through the swarm. Faces lurched out of the darkness; Jorge didn’t slow, his expression hard as he gripped the wheel in a white-knuckle hold, tossing the Cranks aside like rag-dolls. The truck snarled like a ferocious beast, lights and horns blaring as they raced through the darkness.

They swerved around a corner, and Lesley’s eyes bulged; there was the exit. “Drive!” she screamed.

Brenda turned and fired out the window, sending another Crank to the ground. “Floor it!” she yelled.

“Hold on!” Jorge shouted, wrenching the gearstick and shoving his boot flat against the pedal. The engine revved, the truck rattling violently as it surged towards the daylight.

They slammed into a watery pothole; Lesley and Newt’s heads smacked sharply against the ceiling in unison as muck sprayed out from beneath the tires and through their broken windows.

And then they were racing out into the sunshine, a blast of heat hitting them as they left the darkness of the tunnel far, _far_ behind them.

o-o-o-o-o

Jorge unlocked the rusting pieces of protective metal against his window and pulled them down. “I’m impressed!” he commented, resting his arm on the sill as if he were out for a casual morning drive. “You guys almost lasted a whole day.”

“Oh, shove it,” Lesley groaned, twisting around and clambering over the seat, claustrophobia getting the better of her.

“Booty in the face!” Frypan laughed as Lesley squeezed past Newt.

She ignored him. She tumbled into the open space at the back of the truck beside Frypan, closing her eyes and gulping down the welcome fresh air. The knot of anxiety in her stomach began to unwind.

Glancing back in the direction of the tunnel, Thomas clapped Newt across the chest. “You good?”

Newt nodded. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly.

He looked as shellshocked as Lesley felt. She shook her head, swallowing thickly. “Holy hell,” she muttered, clutching at her chest, her heart still racing.

Frypan grinned. “That was some nice shooting, Les.”

She laughed. “I only did half the work,” she told him. Frypan knocked his shoulder against her own in response, his expression fond.

Clearing her throat loudly, Brenda turned and stared at Thomas over the back of her seat. She shook her head in mock-disapproval.

Thomas huffed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna bring you guys into this.”

Brenda rolled her eyes and glanced at Jorge, who peered at them through the rear view mirror, his gaze piercing.

Frypan squeezed his face through the gap between Thomas and Newt. “Hey, I think what he’s trying to say is thanks for saving us,” he smirked.

Thomas finally allowed himself a small smile, one that Brenda returned. “You’re welcome,” she answered, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Lesley laughed. Her gaze shifting, Brenda suddenly pouted at her. “We were supposed to meet you at the checkpoint,” she complained.

Newt started; Lesley’s eyes widened.

_“We’ll follow after you and make sure Vince hasn’t cottoned on.” Brenda pointed to a spot on the map. “We’ll meet you here, right before we hit the tunnel. We should’ve caught up to you by then anyway.”_

She couldn’t believe it had slipped her mind. She inwardly cursed. “Oops?”

Thomas gaped. “You two set this up?”

Newt smirked, reaching behind him and smacking Lesley on the shoulder. “Our girls are smarter than you give them credit for, Tommy,” he chuckled.

Brenda shrugged, glancing at her nails. “We could just drop you off back in that tunnel, if our divine intervention wasn’t satisfying enough for you,” she suggested sweetly, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Lesley shook her head vehemently, raising her hands in surrender. “Nu-uh. Would rather not get eaten alive today, thank you very much.”

Frypan guffawed with laughter.

“Hey, don’t get your hopes up,” Jorge called. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the tunnel. “That checkpoint back there, that was the city’s last defence. If _that_ was overrun, chances are the city is, too.”

A wide smile spread across Newt’s face as he looked out the window, a laugh of disbelief bubbling in his throat. “Yeah, unless they’ve figured out some other way to keep the Cranks out.”

The rest of them turned to look, and seconds later Jorge slammed his foot on the brake, wrenching the jeep to an abrupt stop. Lesley vaulted herself over the side of the truck as the others made for the doors, jumping down onto the dusty ground and moving to the edge of the cliff, her eyes wide.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Frypan said.

It was unlike anything they had ever seen before. Nestled in the valley was a beautiful city with tens of silver skyscrapers climbing towards the clouds, shimmering majestically in the sunshine with the elegance of a time long gone, one the Gladers never had the chance to experience.

But that wasn’t what drew their eyes. Surrounding the gleaming metropolis was a seemingly impenetrable concrete wall towering almost as high as the buildings themselves. Everything outside of the barrier was a crumbling ruin, stretching up into the hillsides.

“Holy shit,” Lesley muttered.

Newt gave a huff of laughter. “Funny. Spent three years trapped behind walls, trying to break out, and now we wanna break back in?”

“Yeah, it’s hilarious,” Frypan agreed dryly, still perched on the back of the truck.

“Jorge, how do we get in?” Thomas asked.

“Don’t look at me, hermano,” Jorge told him, pulling off his gloves. “Those walls are new. I guess that’s WCKD’s answer for everything.”

“Just slap some solid rock around it,” Lesley sniggered. She stared at the city, her arms folding. “But, I mean, they wouldn’t have built the walls around that place without a way in of sorts.” She scuffed the dirt with her boot. “It’ll probably be heavily guarded, but hey, that’s what we do best, right?”

Newt laughed. “Guess it’s a good thing we dragged you along, Les.”

Lesley grinned. “Cheers.”

“Well, we ain’t gonna figure it out from up here,” Brenda smirked, turning back towards the truck. “Let’s go!”

As Jorge climbed back into the vehicle, Thomas’s gaze remained fixed on the city. He sighed quietly, his expression unreadable.

“Do you really think he’s in there?” Newt asked, stepping up beside him.

Lesley inhaled sharply, her eyes drifting over the skyscrapers. She didn’t know if she could bear a repeat of the crushing despair she had felt upon leaving the train carriage, her best friend nowhere in sight. “He’s got to be,” she whispered.

Thomas was silent for a long moment. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Newt glanced sideways at him. “You know she’s gonna be there, too.”

Her hands curling into fists, Lesley fought the involuntary hiss that threatened to escape, her jaw clenching unbearably tight. Exhaling heavily, she turned back to the truck and forced a smile at Frypan. “Scoot over, will you?”

“What, you wanna take up the whole truck bed now? Be my guest. Whatever her ladyship commands -”

Lesley snorted. “Slim it, Pancakes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Didn’t know if I was gonna get this up on time but I did it! This chapter needed a lot of work, I ended up scrapping a whole bunch of it (mainly dialogue) and rewriting it. I literally had three writing documents open trying to figure it out haha.
> 
> Just gonna say that I LOVE all the little interactions between the characters. Been trying to show how they’ve grown together in the six months since the Maze. It makes me kind of emotional looking back on the first fic and then reading their interactions NOW.  
> PLUS Frypan and Lesley getting a badass moment together against the Cranks in the tunnels?! I say YES.  
> (Also on that note!! Yes I added in Newt throwing Lesley some more ammo because why??? would they go somewhere they KNEW might have Cranks and nOT BRING EXTRA???! I like fixing up little things like this that bother me haha)
> 
> Brenda and Jorge’s arrival also wraps up that little side scene between Lesley and Brenda, and what they had been planning the night before. I just LOVE the idea of those two working together.
> 
> Once again, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic! Thank you for keeping me inspired <3
> 
> PS: Also who has seen the tmr cast table read?! It was amazing, it made me so happy. Come fangirl with me in the comments :D


	9. The Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A loud horn blared from the city entrance. There was a clacking, whirring noise, and in unison eight metal housings rose into the air across the walls on either side of the gate. In the sunlight, the faint outline of machine guns could be seen within the sheaths.  
> And then the screaming started.  
> “Oh, shit,” Lesley whispered, beginning to edge backwards, cold iron dread gripping her.  
> The crowd began to run, a tsunami of people rushing away from the gate. “Thomas!” Frypan yelled.  
> “Let’s go, let’s go!” someone hollered amongst the chaos.  
> Lesley spun around, her eyes widening. Her breath choked in her throat, memories slamming into her. She thought she’d heard ... but no. She couldn’t have.  
> He was dead.
> 
> (in which the city walls loom, the Gladers are ambushed, and Lesley is haunted by the past.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we goooo!!! (finally!!) Enjoy :D xx

They steadily wound their way down into the valley. It hadn’t taken them long to reach the outskirts of the city, but it was clear the fringes had long since been abandoned. Buildings crumbled all around them with only the faint traces of previous life; a fire pit here, forgotten piles of clothing there, a frayed teddy bear covered in soot amidst a derelict shelter.

The sight of the neglected toy alone haunted Lesley more than anything else she saw amongst the rubble.

The truck’s exhaust spluttering, they cautiously navigated through the devastated streets, Jorge tentatively pressing the accelerator. Lesley craned her neck, peering up at the wall as it began to loom over them with an eerie sense of familiarity. The outskirts of the Last City were everything they had known, all in one place: the stone walls of the Maze and the devastation of the Scorch combined. She grabbed Newt’s hand; he didn’t let go.

A few miles in, they finally found human life.

It was the kind of people they had seen throughout the Scorch; matted hair, hollow faces and empty eyes, their clothing ragged and soiled. It was the same people who had been forsaken by their leaders, left to rot in the wastelands and derelict cities where the Flare was rife.

Everyone around them was striding purposely in the same direction. There was a strange hum in the air, a feverish energy that made Lesley nervous.

When the crowd began to thicken with their proximity to the wall, Jorge wordlessly turned off the main street, parking the truck beneath a derelict building depicting little to no signs of life. “We go on foot from here,” he said. Not even Thomas argued.

“You sure about this?” Frypan asked uncertainly, his voice echoing in the space.

Thomas bit the inside of his cheek. “We won’t stay longer than we need to.”

Lesley nodded, wishing desperately for the comforting weight of a handgun against her thigh. She thumbed the hilt of her blade. “Good that.”

They ducked back out onto the street and set off through the crowds in a tight-knit formation. Lesley felt exposed in the daylight, uncomfortably aware how much they looked like outsiders. She found herself pushed towards the middle of the group beside Brenda, the two of them grimacing at one another.

“This place has really gone through hell,” Jorge commented, his jaw tight.

“We just gotta stay together,” Thomas said firmly, doing a quick head count for the second time in several minutes. “All these people, they gotta be -”

 _“They hide behind their walls!”_ a ragged voice suddenly screeched over a megaphone, drowning out Thomas’s words. _“They think the wall will save them, that it will protect them from our wrath! From our suffering!”_

Lesley turned to see a large armoured truck ambling its way towards them. The roof was crowded with masked people, all of them peering down at the crowd with weapons in their hands, their legs dangling over the side.

 _“They hide, thinking they can keep the cure for themselves,”_ the voice continued to scream as people scrambled to make a pathway for them, _“while they watch the rest of us wither and rot!”_

There were roars of anger from the crowd. Fists, shovels, and all sorts of bizarre makeshift weapons were thrown into the air in agreement.

_“But there are more of us than there are of them! We are the voice of the voiceless!”_

As the truck drove past, Lesley shuddered as one of the masked men in a grey shirt continued to stare in the Gladers’ direction. “We should move,” she whispered.

_“And I say, we rise up and TAKE BACK what is OURS!”_

The cheering reached fever pitch, a roar of approval sweeping through the crowd. The spectators surged after the vehicle, clapping and screaming as they followed it down the streets.

_“LET’S BRING BACK A VICTORY!”_

“Thomas, your neck!” Brenda gasped, standing on tiptoe and yanking at his collar.

Twisting her head to look, Lesley felt a weight drop in her stomach. There was a small set of squares and dotted lines on the back of Thomas’s neck, lighting up with a soft orange glow for all to see.

“Your tags,” Jorge muttered. “Shit, we need to get you outta here, hermano.”

Lesley clamped a hand down on the nape of her own neck. “Have ours been set off too?” she asked frantically.

From the very back of the group, Frypan shook his head firmly. “Nah, Les; just Thomas is glowing. For now, anyway.”

Brenda rolled her eyes. “Can you stop being the centre of WCKD's attention for two seconds?” she hissed at Thomas. "Geez!"

A high-pitched buzzing noise drew Lesley’s attention, her gaze lifting skywards. “Uh, guys ...” she trailed off, gulping audibly.

They all looked up to see three drones hovering in the air a couple of stories above them, appearing almost like miniature bergs.

“Oh, man, this is some level five fugitive shit,” Jorge bit out, his jaw tightening. “Those things belong to WCKD. We need to go, and we need to go _now_.”

“No,” Thomas argued. He met their wary gazes evenly. “Something big’s happening, and I gotta find out what it is. You guys don’t have to come.”

“Fat chance,” Lesley growled.

“We’re not splitting up,” Newt agreed firmly.

With no further arguments, they delved further into the city, the crowd swallowing them up.

o-o-o-o-o

The mob clamoured beneath the rusting framework of an old warehouse, the entire structure looking like it was about to collapse on their heads. “LET! US! IN!” the crowd chanted, the sound a roar in their ears. “LET! US! IN!”

Emerging out of a concrete tunnel behind Brenda, Lesley stared at the sight before them, her mouth falling open. They were near the base of the wall, on the verge of a barren strip of land with no buildings or other structures. The protesters were crammed against a barricade that stopped them moving any closer, perhaps a half mile out from the wall itself, and it didn’t take Lesley long to understand why.

“That’s it!” Thomas shouted confidently, his expression lighting up as he pointed. “That’s our way in!”

It was a gate, a gap maybe thirty feet wide despite being hundreds tall, and as she craned her neck, she realised it was the only entrance to be seen at all. WCKD soldiers lined the tops of the wall, their uniforms unmistakeable even from a distance, weapons glinting in the sunlight.

Lesley grimaced. The break in the land allowed them to see anyone coming; there was no way they were going to be able to sneak through that gate.

“LET! US! IN! LET! US! IN!” the mob roared. “LET! US! IN!”

“TO THE WALL!” a woman next to Lesley screamed, making her lurch backwards as she clamped a hand down on her ear.

There were signs and banners everywhere. _WCKD IS THE DISEASE! I WANT IN! WE WON’T BE LEFT FOR DEAD!_

“This is wrong!” Lesley gasped, the sense of claustrophobia nearly overwhelming her, her head reeling.

“I know!” Jorge shoved his way through the crowd. “Thomas! This is not what you’re looking for!”

They unwittingly found themselves absorbed into the angry throng of protestors steadily marching towards the gate, the mob all-consuming, pressing from all sides, taking and not giving.

“All these people trying to find their way in, you think you’re gonna find something they can’t?” Jorge yelled over the noise.

“We’ve come this far, I’m not turning back now!” Thomas shouted back, disappearing out of Lesley’s hearing range.

“What the hell did we get ourselves into?!” Frypan cried, pushing after Thomas.

Lesley swallowed hard, looking around frantically and only seeing a sea of angry faces. She pressed closer to Newt, trying desperately to steady her breathing. _In, out, in, out -_

Her blood turned to ice.

There, on the verges of the crowd, was an ominous masked figure, staring in her direction. It was the same one from the top of the vehicle.

“Les?” Newt murmured to her, grabbing her hand.

She twisted around, her eyes wide, but everywhere Lesley looked she could only see the masked figures, multiplying by the second. Shuck, she was spiralling, her heartbeat roaring in her ears, her palms clammy. “Newt, you see them?” she whispered.

Newt glanced in either direction. He grimaced, his posture tightening as he eyed the masked men approaching on all sides, effectively herding them as Thomas continued to push his way towards the front of the mob. His fingers tightened around Lesley’s. “Bloody company’s arrived.”

Abandoning all pretence of calmness, Newt surged forward, he and Lesley barreling through the crowd. Finally, they managed to shove their way to the front of the jostling, claustrophobic throng to reach the others.

“Thomas!” Lesley shouted above the noise.

“Hey, guys!” Newt grabbed Thomas’s shoulder, spinning him around to face him. “We gotta go now,” he cried urgently. “Look!”

Thomas’s gaze lifted, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the figures in combat gear. Grimacing, Jorge drew his pistol and pushed Brenda behind him.

A loud horn blared from the city entrance. The crowd rapidly fell silent, everyone turning to look, faces shifting in confusion and fear. There was a clacking, whirring noise, and in unison eight metal housings rose into the air across the walls on either side of the gate. In the sunlight, the faint outline of machine guns could be seen within the sheaths.

And then the screaming started.

“Oh, shit,” Lesley whispered, beginning to edge backwards, cold iron dread gripping her.

The crowd began to run, a tsunami of people rushing away from the gate. “Thomas!” Frypan yelled.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” someone hollered amongst the chaos.

Lesley spun around, her eyes widening. Her breath choked in her throat, memories slamming into her. She thought she’d heard ... but no. She couldn’t have.

_He was dead._

There was a split second screeching noise, the only warning they had before the first shell exploded. The ground heaved; bodies went flying into the air amidst concrete and steel.

Thomas jolted out of his daze. “Go, go, go!” he roared. “Come on!”

The others crashing against her, Lesley staggered away from the gate, screaming in terror as explosions erupted amongst the crowd surging around them. People were collapsing to the broken ground, some wailing and others lifeless.

“MOVE!” Frypan yelled, pulling Lesley along; she gave a shriek of fright as a shell exploded nearby, showering them with dust and rubble.

“Keep going, Les!” Newt shouted as she threw her arms over her head.

Lesley careened past a truck with the words _CLEAN ME_ scrawled in the dirt; a second later it exploded in a hail of metal and dust. A hysterical laugh burst from her mouth.

Finally, they broke free of the hysterical mass of screaming people. Frypan ushered them towards a narrow corridor between two dilapidated buildings. “Come on! Get in, GET IN!” he bellowed.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Jorge roared, pushing Frypan and Newt ahead.

“Just run!” Lesley screamed.

Another shell rocked the foundation of the walls around them, sending Lesley, Brenda and Thomas stumbling as rocks and dirt were flung from the rooftops above them. “Come on, come on!” Thomas cried, grabbing Lesley’s arm.

“No way out!” they suddenly heard Newt yell, followed by a cry of pain.

A leaden weight dropped in Lesley’s stomach; his eyes widening, Thomas hurtled forward, dragging her with him. “Come on!”

The sounds of a struggle reached their ears, grunts and scuffling audible between the excruciating shell blasts. “Get your hands off me!” Newt roared as Frypan gave a shout of alarm.

“Newt!” Thomas screamed. “NEWT! FRY!”

They rounded the corner, barreling into a street crowded with trucks and swarming with masked figures. Her heart thrashing within her ribcage, Lesley crashed to a stop at the sight of a struggling Newt and Frypan being thrown into one of the vehicles, the door slamming shut behind them. “No!” she shrieked.

_Please don’t be WCKD, please don’t be WCKD, please don’t be -_

“Oh, _shit_!” Brenda swore, heads turning in their direction.

Nausea rocketed through Lesley; she hurtled backwards, spinning on her heel, searching frantically for another way out -

“Oof!” she gasped.

\- and slammed straight into the same masked figure who had watched them from the top of the armoured vehicle.

Gasping, she staggered away from him. Hands suddenly clamped down on Lesley’s arms from behind. She jerked away, but the masked guard held on tighter. “Hey!” she screamed, her head starting to spin. “ _NO_ -!”

“Let go of me!” Brenda snarled at the same time Thomas gave a wheezing groan. Lesley jerked her head to see Brenda in the iron grip of another guard, Thomas doubled over and incapacitated in a headlock.

Another explosion went off, dirt hailing down on them. The men dragged them towards the vehicles, Lesley and Brenda kicking and screaming, digging their heels into the ground and clawing viciously at their captors.

“What the shuck do you _want_?!” Lesley yelled; Brenda rammed her elbow into the soldier’s stomach, but to no avail.

“Brenda! BRENDA!” Jorge bellowed as he was forced into another truck at gunpoint.

Snarling, Lesley sank her teeth into her captor’s arm; yelling in shock, he let go of her. She darted away, but barely made it a few steps before the grey-shirted guard tripped her up, sending her crashing to the ground.

She barely had time to regain her bearings; a shadow crossed over her and the same man picked her up with frightening ease. Lesley recoiled at the touch, the colour draining from her face. Her vision lurched, bile rising in her throat.

“Don’t pass out on me, Les,” the voice muttered.

A flicker of memory, being carried across the Glade; blankets strewn across the grass; Griever roars echoing in her ears. Lesley’s teeth clenched; she squeezed her eyes shut. _Stop it stop it stop it -_

“Stop it - you’re dead, you’re _dead_!” she screamed, terror clawing at her. Shuck, she was hallucinating again -

_Collapsing to the ground, blood pooling from his shoulder -_

She banished the image to the back of her mind, struggling in the man’s grasp. “Let _go_ of me!”

The guard paid her no attention, unceremoniously heaving her into the van after Brenda and slamming the doors shut behind her.

“Hey!” she roared, falling backwards into Thomas as there was the audible _clank_ of a lock being turned. She frantically pounded her fists against the doors. “HEY!”

A hand gripped her arm; she jerked away. “It’s alright,” Brenda soothed. “Just me.”

Gasping for air, Lesley crumpled to the floor, curling in on herself, her vision swimming nauseatingly.

_“Shucking hell, come ‘ere, Les.”_

_“Hey, that’s dirty, slinthead!”_

_“Don’t worry; hardly anyone gets it first time. You weren’t far off, see?”_

_“If we die tonight, I will kill you, Les!”_

_“Oh, my God, Les, you’re such a girl!”_

_“You’re kidding me. This was as far as you planned?!”_

Memories, slamming into her in a relentless tidal wave; words, images, punching her; in her stomach, in her heart, over and over again until she couldn’t shucking _breathe_. A sob wracked her body.

Thomas frantically shifted closer. “Lesley?” he pressed worriedly.

Lesley jerked her head, crushing the heels of her palms against her burning eyes. “I thought - I thought I heard -” she choked out.

_She couldn’t even say his name._

“Shh, shh.” Brenda threw an arm around Lesley, pulling her against her. “Shh, it’s okay, Les -”

“Shut up!” a man yelled from the front seat, loudly cocking a gun.

The side door slid open briefly and three burly men piled in, weapons pointed at their captives. Moments later, they drove off with the heinous screech of tires, their lives resting frighteningly in the hands of strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Sorry this one was so late, I truly appreciate your patience. I’ve been in a bit of a writing slump for a couple of weeks, but a certain AMAZING comment got me going again - and so ensued a further couple weeks of editing.
> 
> This felt like a tougher one to write for some reason, but got there in the end even though it kicked my ass! (the last bit of the chapter went through at least seven or eight revisions before I was happy with it)  
> So there’s a few little dialogue adds, character moments etc. Also got a throwback to chapter 22 of Born to Run (plus extras)!! Didn’t see that one coming when I outlined this chapter “:D I had such a great time going through Born to Run and finding all the scenes. There’s some lovely little moments our mystery character (wink wink) has with Lesley that I haven’t read in a long time so that was really nice - it’s helped give me some ideas for the next chapter as well.
> 
> On that note, I’m adding a little focus to the theme I had going in Ready to Run - as in, these kids have been absolutely traumatised but the things they have seen and experienced. And to suddenly hear the voice of someone she watched die in front of her? Yeah. Of course Lesley is going to freak out. (I mean, we all know who it is ;) but Lesley thinks she’s just getting overwhelmed by her memories, and she's hearing things that aren't actually happening.)  
> The movies skim over this kind of thing but it!! is!! important!! to acknowledge their trauma! It hurts my heart to think what these characters have been through, honestly. And we haven’t even reached WCKD headquarters yet …
> 
> Once again, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic! Thank you for keeping me inspired <3


	10. Worlds Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everybody relax!” the lead guard called as the room began to fall quiet again. “We’re all on the same side here!”  
> Lesley blanched, her shaking hands curling into fists as she swayed dangerously on the spot. She wanted to scream, to curl into a ball, her head in her hands. She couldn’t stop hearing his voice.  
> Staring, Thomas shoved away the arm of one of the guards. “What do you mean, same side?” he spat. “If you’re not WCKD, who the hell are you?”  
> The guard tilted his head in a definitive eye roll, the gesture striking Lesley with a horrible sense of familiarity. “Oh, for shuck’s - someone grab Lesley before she falls over.”  
> There was a deafening silence.  
> “How do you know her name?” Brenda demanded, seizing Lesley’s arm.  
> Newt’s face turned a shade paler. “And our ... slang ...?” he whispered.
> 
> (in which Brenda asks some questions, an old friend appears, and Newt is the calm voice of reason.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!! Enjoy!! :D <3

Despite all the theatrics to capture them in the first place, it was a rather uneventful journey. Lesley, Thomas and Brenda glared furiously at their captors the entire time.

All the windows were painted so they couldn’t see out, and the three burly males sitting in front of them blocked most of their view out the windscreen - even if the thick netting separating them from thefront seats hadn’t been in the way.

Lesley kept a tight grip on Brenda’s hand. She had assured both her and Thomas that she was okay, but her blotchy eyes told another story. She could still feel her heart hammering in her chest.

Her mind churned restlessly. She had laid her friends to rest, or so she had thought. She had whispered her goodbyes on a frigid desert night, counting the stars and giving each to a friend - a _brother_ \- she had lost, Minho’s warm body curled around her own.

She closed her eyes. _Minho_.

Shuck, she was losing her mind. There was no possible way _he_ could have survived the spear through his torso; Minho had frighteningly good aim. But why was she imagining him _now_?

They lurched over another bump in the road, dragging her back to the present. Brenda was peering at her worriedly.

Lesley shook her head. She would tell her later, but for now she desperately needed a distraction. _Twenty questions?_ she mouthed.

Brenda grinned wickedly, looking back at their captors. “What’s your favourite colour? Anyone?”

A stony silence met her words. Still fuming quietly, Thomas rolled his eyes. Lesley bit down on her lip to keep from laughing; he knew _exactly_ what she was up to.

Brenda wasn’t deterred by the lack of response. “Mine’s purple, just so you know,” she said, casually picking dirt from beneath her nails. “How’s the weather been?”

She didn’t stop there.

“Favourite food? Favourite weapon? Foot size? Actually, what size are your _underpants_? Pineapple on pizza? Are you from WCKD?”

“No,” one of them answered sharply before his colleague elbowed him in the side, shaking his head.

Lesley bit back a grin, fist-bumping Brenda. However, her mirth quickly faded. If their captors weren’t in league with WCKD, who were they and what did they want with the Gladers?

“One more word and I’ll be shootin’ ye brains out the backs of ye heads,” the driver of the vehicle snarled. “Starting with Little Miss Verbal Shitstorm over there.”

“Of course, darling,” Brenda replied sweetly.

There was the screech of metal up ahead. “Let’s go!” a female voice called.

They hurtled around a corner, sending Thomas crashing sideways into Lesley. “Shit, sorry, Les,” he muttered, hurriedly righting himself.

“You’re good,” Lesley grunted, peeling herself off Brenda.

They were plunged into a grey half-light. Eyeing the shadows drifting across the front seats, Lesley wondered just where the hell they were. Their captors didn’t say another word, not until their vehicle screeched to a halt and the back door was thrown open. “Get out, get out!” one of them barked.

Throwing her hands up in surrender, Lesley scrambled out after Thomas, Brenda quickly following suit. She looked around, her mouth dropping open. They were in a semi underground parking area, shafts of light streaming down from a foyer just beyond a crowd of people in threadbare clothing, all of whom were watching.

“Fancy seeing you here,” an accented voice drawled sarcastically.

Lesley spun around. Their arms raised, Newt and Frypan grinned weakly at them. Both looked unusually pale but otherwise unharmed.

“Stay there and don’t move!” one of the guards barked.

The shriek of tires pierced the quiet and a third vehicle came barreling into view. As the van rolled to a stop, a distinct _thudding_ could be heard. “Where are you going?!” a muffled voice demanded angrily.

The back door crashed open with such force it rattled on its hinges. One of the masked men tumbled out, landing heavily on the concrete with a loud grunt.

Lesley frowned. “What -?”

Jorge suddenly leaped out of the vehicle, seizing the man’s collar with both hands, his eyes frighteningly livid. “Where is she?! You son of a _bitch_!” he roared, slamming his fist into the man’s face.

Chaos erupted.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Brenda yelled as a horde of armed men surged towards Jorge.

“Oh, _shit_ -!” Thomas threw himself at the guards. “Hey, wait!”

“Jorge!” Lesley shouted, bolting forward. An arm slammed into her chest, hauling her away from Jorge. “You’re gonna get us all killed!”

Lesley, Newt and Thomas were shoved back against the vans; they frantically raised their hands. “Okay, okay, okay!” Newt shouted, wincing as a guard kicked his bad leg; Lesley swore angrily beside him.

“I’m here!” Brenda screamed desperately as Jorge threw another punch. “I’m right here!”

“Let her through!” a voice ordered.

Lesley’s head whipped around in confusion. The masked man in the grey shirt was pushing the other guards back. He seemed to be in charge.

“I’m right here!” Brenda yelled, finally managing to grab Jorge’s shoulder. “I’m right here!”

With a roar of fury, Jorge swung around to launch another punch but stopped abruptly when he saw who was standing over him.

“I’m right here,” Brenda repeated soothingly.

“Oh, Brenda,” Jorge choked out, relief thickening his voice. Shushing him, Brenda grabbed his forearm and helped him to his feet.

“Everybody relax!” the lead guard called as the room began to fall quiet again, the tension in the air suffocating. “We’re all on the same side here!”

Lesley blanched, her shaking hands curling into fists as she swayed dangerously on the spot. She wanted to scream, to curl into a ball, her head in her hands. She couldn’t stop hearing _his_ voice.

Staring, Thomas shoved away the arm of one of the guards. “What do you mean, _same side_?” he spat. “If you’re not WCKD, who the _hell_ are you?”

The guard tilted his head in a definitive eye roll, the gesture striking Lesley with a horrible sense of familiarity. “Oh, for shuck’s - someone grab Lesley before she falls over.”

There was a deafening silence.

“How do you know her name?” Brenda demanded, seizing Lesley’s arm.

Newt’s face turned a shade paler. “And our ... slang ...?” he whispered.

Everything in Lesley crashed to a halt. _They had heard it too_.

For a minute, no one moved. Finally, the guard reached up and pulled off his mask, tossing the helmet to the floor. He nodded in greeting. “Hey, Greenie.”

Gasps of shock split the air. Lesley’s world spun, something in her chest cracking open, a box she had sealed away in her heart months ago in a desperate need to move on; to _survive_. For a second, she thought she might pass out.

_“Just put the bloody gun away, Gal,” Newt begged. “Come on, slim yourself down.”_

_Lesley slowly reached for her dagger, fingers tightening around the hilt._

_Gally shook his head, his features twisted in anguished torment. “I belong to the Maze. We all do,” he sobbed._

_“Gally, no!” Lesley screamed as he pulled the trigger._

_Chuck shoved Thomas backwards; Minho grabbed his spear and threw it as hard as he could; a wheezing, gasping sound tore from Gally’s throat, the spear imbedded in his torso just below his left shoulder. The rasping noise came again, his eyes clouding over before he slumped to the floor, unmoving._

“Holy shit,” Lesley whispered, weak in the knees.

She hadn’t been imagining things after all.

“No way,” Frypan murmured. Beside him, Newt looked thunderstruck.

Gally was older, his hair shorter and what had once been the barest of muscles were now straining against his shirt, but it was undoubtedly him.

Thomas’s expression twitched, his jaw tightening. Suddenly, he launched himself at Gally, his fist smashing into his face and sending the two of them crashing to the ground.

“No, wait!” Newt shouted, sprinting forward as the armed men surged towards Thomas. The cocking of guns split the air.

“Stop, it’s alright!” Gally yelled to them as Thomas threw his weight down on him. “Just -!” He grunted in pain as another punch landed, his head smacking back against the floor.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Crashing to his knees, Newt grabbed Thomas’s wrist just as he was about to strike a third time. “Stop! Stop it!”

Something snapped within Lesley, her body hurtling faster than her brain. She barely registered the hard scrape of the concrete as she hit the floor on the other side of Thomas, digging her fingers into his shoulder, the taut, shaking muscles beneath her hands frightening her. “Thomas, enough!” she begged.

She couldn’t bear to look at Gally, terrified to see the expression she imagined was on his face; the judgement, the disgust, the _contempt_.

_They had left him for dead._

Thomas shook with fury, with an uncontrollable grief that was carved into every hard line on his face, his expression churning with memories they all thought they had made peace with a long time before. “He killed Chuck,” he bit out shakily.

Newt nodded fervently. “Yeah, I know,” he said, gently yet firmly. “I remember. I was there too, alright? But I _also_ remember that he was Stung and half out of his mind.”

Frighteningly aware of the hostility circling them, Lesley didn’t dare move. Her gaze unwittingly dropped to Gally.

She was stunned. He was watching Thomas carefully, something bordering on concern flickering in his eyes; Gally made no move against him, utterly surrendering to whatever Thomas wanted to inflict upon him. _As if he thought he deserved it._

“WCKD is the enemy here, okay?” Newt whispered harshly. “They’re the bastards that did this to us. _This_ isn’t gonna solve anything, and he can’t very well explain himself if you’ve smashed all his bloody teeth out.” Newt swallowed audibly. “Just calm down, alright?” he implored gently. “Come on.”

Thomas’s chest heaved, each breath a hiss through clenched teeth. Suddenly, he shoved Newt and Lesley away and stumbled backwards as far from Gally as possible, crashing into Jorge. Brenda grabbed his arm, steadying him.

Stretching his jaw, Gally slowly got to his feet, running a hand over his stubbled face. “Kinda had that coming,” he admitted, sounding shockingly goodnatured about the entire exchange. He looked around at the other Gladers. “Anybody else? Fry? Newt?” His gaze drifted. “Les?”

She stared at him, eyes glassy. “Tempted,” she replied weakly. In truth, she didn’t know if she wanted to hug the shank or beat the shit out of him. “You should’ve said something. _Earlier_.”

His mouth twisted. “I was trying not to scare you.”

Lesley choked out a laugh. “Too late for that.”

Jorge leaned towards Thomas and Frypan, his frown deepening. “You know this guy?” he murmured.

Frypan nodded slowly. “He was an old friend.”

“ _Friend_ ,” Thomas bit out.

“I - _how_?” Newt spluttered in disbelief. “How - how is this possible? I don’t -” He swallowed, his expression hardening. “We watched you die!”

“No, you _left_ me to die,” Gally corrected. “And if we hadn’t found you when we did, you’d be dead right now.”

Lesley fought to keep her breathing even, memories surging faster than she could control them. It had all been too much. Chuck had barely passed when the soldiers had swarmed in to rescue them - or so they had thought - and Gally had been so still it had been easy to assume his demise. They had been grief-stricken, frightened, _broken_ after all they had been through.

But that didn’t change what had happened. Her heart twisted, realising with a sickening clarity that she had never seen him close his eyes. _He had watched them abandon him_.

Looking about at his company, Gally waved a hand. One by one, the guards took off their helmets, and Lesley was surprised by the grimy faces staring back. Most looked about her own age, maybe a few years older; they were far less terrifying without their masks. One rubbed at his forearm; Lesley caught a glimpse of teeth imprints.

She didn’t feel guilty in the slightest. _Serves you right._

Gally changed tack, his brow creasing in confusion. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Not for the pleasure of my company, I’m guessing.”

A pause.

“Minho,” Newt answered quietly. Gally tensed. “WCKD has him here.”

“That’s why we were at the gate,” Lesley explained, finding her voice again. “We’re looking for a way into the city.”

The atmosphere in the room instantly shifted, wary eyes darting about. Gally peered at them for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I can help with that,” he said finally. “Follow me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Thomas said firmly.

Gally shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I can get you through those walls.”

The silence stretched.

Newt shifted closer to Thomas. “Tommy,” he murmured pleadingly. “Remember what we’re here for. _Who_ we’re here for.”

Thomas deflated, suddenly looking as exhausted as they all felt. Finally, he exhaled a deep breath and nodded. Relief flashed across Gally’s face, his stance visibly relaxing.

With the immediate sense of danger fading, Lesley realised there were far more pressing matters to attend to. She cleared her throat. “Hey, as desperate as I am to find out what’s going on, I really have to pee.”

“Oh, my God, Les,” Newt muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Several of the guards snickered audibly and a few people grinned, the tension in the air fizzling to a far more tolerable level.

Gally’s expression twisted, his eyes widening, and a loud laugh suddenly burst from his mouth. “Never were one for subtlety, were you, Les?” he smirked, amusement settling across his features. He tilted his head. “Come on, it’s this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this update!! Hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
> 
> Okay, fun might not be the right word haha!! This was a bit of an emotionally charged chapter. It went through multiple revisions before I was finally happy with the interactions with Gally. Goodness, trying to imagine just what would have been going through their minds at that point. Poor Lesley is having a rough time over there.
> 
> Side note, In the actual scene, Newt had this look on his face like he had guessed who it was (I mean, if Lesley heard it then I’m sure they did too!) however I’m sticking with Lesley’s POV here. Her head is so cluttered she’s not paying much attention to the other Gladers. Sorry boys!! :”D
> 
> So, new stuff in this chapter! A few little character interactions which I adored writing - they’re one of my favourite things to add to the story (haha, Brenda being her classic self!!). And got another little flashback in there! A little more compact than the original Born to Run text but essentially the same.
> 
> I’m genuinely so so happy to have Gally officially in the story now. I’ve really missed his character. He’s one of my absolute faves and I think I’m going to enjoy exploring this new version of him, and adding little bits here and there. I’ve already got some little bits outline for him for later, yay!
> 
> Also, it really warmed my heart, the amount of comments/messages I got on the last chapter telling me how much people had missed this fic and they were so glad for an update. It just!! It made me so happy, beyond words. I didn’t think many would notice if I didn’t update but you guys sure did haha!! Thank you for your continued support <3 <3 this fic wouldn’t exist without you.
> 
> Once again, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic! Thank you for keeping me inspired <3 (also let me know your favourite moments/lines!)


	11. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lawrence’s voice was soft as leather, hard as steel. “Are - you - sure?”  
> Anger surged through Lesley, her voice cracking like a whip. “Absolutely.”  
> He paused, peering at her, staring for an uncomfortably long period of time. “You know, you and I are not so different.”  
> Lesley went rigid, her gaze flicking across his broken face, darting to the line of blue fluid. “You’ve never even met me before,” she snarled, frightened.  
> Lawrence chuckled darkly. “I can see your eyes, and they tell me enough.”
> 
> (in which Gally introduces someone, Lesley can’t hold her tongue, and a look in the mirror brings back memories.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!! :D (I've been excited to post this, there's an extra scene for you in this one!)

“After the Maze, I got picked up by a group headed to the city,” Gally explained, leading them deeper into the stronghold once they had relieved themselves. “They realised I was immune, patched me up, and brought me here to Lawrence.”

The eyes of the other inhabitants followed their every move. Lesley suppressed a shudder. There was a hungry look on their faces, warring with a deep, simmering anger that made her deeply uneasy.

They passed a room that visibly contained an abundance of their weapon supplies. Stacks of metal cases littered the floor, and the space was crowded with men and women alike cleaning and reloading their guns.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Jorge murmured to Lesley.

“This group’s been at war with WCKD ever since they took control of the city,” Gally continued. “But WCKD can’t hide behind those walls forever. Day’s gonna come and they’re gonna pay for what they’ve done. They’re running out of time.”

Lesley flinched.

Gally abruptly came to a stop and turned to look at them. “Listen, uh ...” he trailed off, his voice softer than before, the hard edge gone. “He doesn’t get a lot of visitors, so let me do the talking, alright?”

There were uncertain nods of agreement. Apparently satisfied with that, Gally began walking again. “And try not to stare,” he added.

Lesley bit her lip, glancing at the others; they all wore the same nervous looks on their faces. Eventually, Thomas stepped forward, and the rest of them followed his lead.

They entered a secluded room on the mezzanine level; Lesley’s nose wrinkled as she was hit by the overwhelming smell of flowers ... and something foul, something _rotten_. The soft sound of classical music drifted up towards them, piano and violin perfectly entwined.

“Rose took my nose, I suppose,” a rasping voice murmured below. “Rose took my nose, I suppose. Suppose, suppose, took my nose.”

Lesley shuddered involuntarily as they descended the staircase one after the other. She felt a hand on her upper arm and glanced behind her to see Newt raising his eyebrows at her in question. She nodded; he gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

_Focus. Focus. Focus._

They reached the living area below, a cozy space littered with books, plants, and personal treasures. Gally carefully placed his shotgun down, propping it against a chair so dusty Lesley wondered when it had last been sat in.

“Gally,” the rough voice greeted.

Gally took a step towards the figure silhouetted against the window, standing amongst a collection of rose bushes dominating the space at the far end of the room. “Lawrence.”

“Glad to see you made it back,” the voice continued. “Jasper told me what happened.”

Gally’s hands rested on the neckline of his protective vest. “It was a slaughter,” he confirmed, swallowing hard. He shook his head dejectedly, bitterness crossing his face. “There’s nothing we could do against those guns.”

“No,” Lawrence agreed. “But they can only poke the hornet’s nest so long ... before they get stung ...”

He picked a rose from the plant before him and lifted it to his face, inhaling deeply. It was then, as he turned to the side, that Lesley suddenly realised he had no nose.

Horror ricocheted through her. Newt stiffened beside her, and when Lesley glanced at him, she saw a look of dawning comprehension on his features.

“Now, who are these people?” Lawrence asked, his voice casual but something unmistakably dangerous lurking behind his tone. “Why are they here?”

“We need to get into WCKD,” Thomas cut in. Lesley threw him a warning glare, but he ignored her. “They captured one of our friends. We’re getting him back; Gally said you can get us through the walls.”

Lawrence chose that moment to look at them, his face hidden in shadow. “Well, Gally should know better than to make promises that he can’t keep.”

The others in the room watched nervously as Gally looked away, his cheeks flushing. Lesley had to remind herself to breathe.

Lawrence sighed, tapping his cane against the wooden floor. “Besides, that wall is only half your problem,” he said. He wheeled an IV drip into view from where it had been hidden behind the flowers; the feed bag on the pole contained a sliver of blue liquid that Lesley recognised instantly. He took a step forward, staring at Thomas. “Getting inside WCKD is impossible.”

“There might be a way now,” Gally interjected quietly. A pause. “But it doesn’t work without Thomas. He knows ... our mutual friend.”

Thomas glanced at Gally, a small crease appearing in his brow. Her heart racing at the revelation, Lesley rapidly went through the list of people Gally would also know.

_Ava_. It had to be Ava Paige. Gally couldn’t have known about Janson unless they had crossed paths somewhere out in the Scorch, which she highly doubted; he had spent most of his time on their own tails.

_But ... no._ Had Gally seen the video of Paige’s supposed demise? Had he already been in the room with them by that time? She racked her brains. _Who else -?_

“Is that so?” Lawrence drawled. He took another step. “Do you know what I am, Thomas?”

He moved into the light, and Lesley bit back a gasp. The entire right side of his face had been eaten away by the Flare, the skin covered in dark black and blue veins; his eyes were clouded, dark and unreadable; the skin across his cheek had rotted away to reveal blackened, diseased muscle, and the same thing had happened to his nose.

Nausea rocketed through Lesley, death staring her in the face in more ways than one, her skin crawling.

_Step, creak, clunk. Step, creak, clunk._ Closer, closer. Lawrence leaned in, his face barely inches from Thomas’s. “I am a businessman,” he told him quietly. “Which means that I don’t take unnecessary risks. Why should I trust you?”

Thomas watched Lawrence, his gaze unwavering. “I can help you. You see, if you can get me through those walls, I can get you what you need.”

Lawrence was silent for a long, tense moment. “What is it,” he began, “that you think I need?”

“Time.” Thomas’s gaze flicked to what little remained of the serum in the IV bag. “Every last drop.”

Lawrence gave a huff of laughter, glancing at the drip. “Is that what I need?”

“WCKD has something we both want,” Thomas reminded him, his voice hard. Lesley held her breath, feeling Newt tense beside her.

Lawrence tilted his head. “What’s so important about this friend of yours?” His eyes were piercing. “You could all die. Walk away and live another few years, if you’re lucky; if WCKD don’t catch you first.” He watched Thomas’s face carefully. “Once this is set in motion, there will be no turning back. Ask yourselves ... are the risks worth it?”

“Of course they are,” Lesley bit out before she could stop herself. Gally shot her a warning look.

_Minho, Minho, Minho -_

_Step, creak, clunk._

Lawrence pushed past Thomas, moving towards Lesley. She gripped Newt’s hand, forcing herself not to back away even as she was hit by a wave of grotesque breath.

Lawrence’s voice was soft as leather, hard as steel. “Are - you - _sure_?”

Anger surged through Lesley, her voice cracking like a whip. “Absolutely.”

He paused, peering at her, staring for an uncomfortably long period of time. “You know, you and I are not so different.”

Lesley went rigid, her gaze flicking across his broken face, darting to the line of blue fluid. “You’ve never even met me before,” she snarled, frightened.

Lawrence chuckled darkly. “I can see your eyes, and they tell me enough.”

“Leave her alone,” Newt told him sharply, his grip around Lesley’s fingers verging on painful. “She hasn’t done anything to you.”

Lawrence looked between the two of them, his gaze then drifting across the other Gladers before settling on Lesley again. “Interesting,” he murmured.

He stepped away, turning back to Thomas. “I’ll tell you what,” he finally drawled. “Three can go for now. The rest stay down here with me.”

Thomas’s eyes flickered.

Lawrence gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, his mouth twitching. “Just a little insurance to make sure you find your way back.”

Lesley bit the inside of her cheek. She sure as hell didn’t trust Lawrence, but there was a part of her buried deep down, a part she thought she had lost in the Maze, that still trusted Gally, and that would have to be enough for now.

If this was their only way into the city, sacrifices would have to be made.

“We have a deal?” Lawrence pressed. He held out a hand, the skin ragged and flaking.

A moment later, Thomas, grasped it firmly.

Lawrence chuckled, a puff of air out of what little remained of his nose. “Gally, show them the way.”

As Gally led them back up the stairs, Frypan wrapped a warm, protective arm around Lesley’s shoulders, tugging her close. “What the shuck was that about, Les?” he muttered.

She jerked her head in response, but couldn’t resist glancing back one last time.

She wished she hadn’t. Lawrence was already staring at her, his expression unreadable; and then, he nodded. Shuddering, Lesley hurried up the remaining steps and out the door, her mind reeling.

_He knew. He_ knew _._

_Focus. Focus._

_Focus._

o-o-o-o-o

The echo of the door slam rang in Lesley’s ears, difficult to hear over the crashing of blood assaulting her senses. She clasped the edges of the sink, barely aware of the grime beneath her fingers, the nausea rocketing through her nothing to do with the decrepit, mouldy outhouse, graffiti smothering the walls.

Vomit crawling up her throat, she glanced up and caught herself staring back. A wretched gasp tumbled from her lips. She barely recognised the haggard, worn person gazing back at her through the filth of the wall mirror.

_“We never did show Les her face, did we?”_

Lesley blinked back unexpected tears, thrown by the sheer force of the memory.

_Newt smiled encouragingly. “Go on, Green-Gal,” he said. “Take a peek.”_

_Swallowing nervously, almost frightened by the view that awaited her, Lesley tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned over the bucket._

_She started to cry._

_Everything was exactly as Newt had described. She sniffled, watching the movement of her features. She could see the waves of brown floating around her head, framing a pointed jaw and oval face._

_It was the prettiest sight she had ever seen. It suddenly hit her: this face belonged to_ her _._

_“You alright, Greenie?” Newt asked softly._

_Lesley jerked her head, nodding. “It’s me,” she whispered brokenly._

_Newt squeezed her shoulder, his eyes kind and knowing. “Not half bad looking, are ya?”_

_She choked out a laugh, the fond expression on Newt’s face nurturing something warm inside her; a feeling of belonging, of_ understanding _. The Creators had taken her memories, but everything she was ... that was her own._

It was a moment that seemed like only yesterday. In some ways it was still startling to see her reflection, even after all this time. 

She was just shocked by how exhausted she looked now, a far cry from the rosy, bright-eyed girl she had once glimpsed in a pail of water.

Sighing, she yanked her neck scarf free and held it under the tap, stalling for time. Lifting the damp rag, she grabbed the knife from her belt; eyeing the gunk and blood splatters, she ran the blade through the rag to wipe it clean in precise, controlled motions.

_Focus, focus -_

Without warning, her hand spasmed and the knife clattered to the floor. She swore, clutching her forearm, her heart shuddering in her chest -

“You good, Les?” Frypan called through the door.

Lesley whirled around, fear surging through her. He must have followed after her the moment she had fled to the bathroom again. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice strangled. “Just - just clumsy me.”

“As long as you didn’t trip over the dump bucket,” Brenda called, a false note of cheer to her voice.

Lesley closed her eyes. _And Brenda too_ \- an audibly _worried_ Brenda, at that. “You’d be able to smell it if I did,” she forced out.

Jamming her knife back into place, she took a deep breath to steel herself. “Pull yourself together, shank,” she growled at her reflection sternly. Her expression softened, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Minho’s counting on you.”

_“Because you - are - Lesley! You are our first girl, who has proved she can do anything us shanks can, who’s strong and brave and shucking determined to survive!”_

The sudden surge of longing just about breaking her then and there, Lesley sighed heavily, bowing her head. “ _Minho’s counting on you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this update!! :D
> 
> This chapter didn’t need a lot of editing/revisions which I was pleasantly surprised about! I pretty much knew exactly what I wanted out of this chapter from the get-go. A few little additions to the verbal sparring between Lawrence and Thomas - Lawrence pushing for their motives to find out what they’re really up to etc. I also really like the little confrontation between Lesley and Lawrence there, and I hope that was enjoyable for you as a reader too!
> 
> AND LES AND FRYPAN!!! I adore writing their little brother and sister moments together. I like to think that he’s grown really protective of her after everything that’s happened. She feels like the only sister he’s got now.
> 
> The scene in the bathroom is one I have been really eager to post! It was originally after the “I really have to pee” moment (and was a lot shorter!) but once the conversation with Lawrence started coming together (I usually work on multiple chapters at once) I realised that the bathroom scene belonged in THIS chapter, and it gave me the chance to expand on Lesley’s thoughts and feelings.
> 
> I am all about the Born to Run flashbacks at the moment, haha! The water reflection bit is actually a little scene that’s part of a one shot collection I’ve been writing for my Run series, and it felt appropriate to include it in here. It’s almost bittersweet, seeing how much things have changed for these characters and how far they’ve come from their Glade days. (A slight Divergent feel to that? I was quite intrigued by that Abnegation idea, only seeing your reflection every once in a while. It’s hard to see how much you’ve grown when you see your reflection constantly).
> 
> Hope my ramblings make sense :”D Once again, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic! Thank you for keeping me inspired <3


	12. The Runners Quartet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a ragged gasp; Newt’s right leg buckled beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground far, far behind them.  
> Thomas stumbled into Lesley. “Newt!” he yelled, his eyes wide.  
> His expression desperate, his face white with terror, Newt tried to get to his feet, his right leg visibly shaking with the strain.  
> “Newt!” Lesley screamed.  
> Thomas started forward. Jumping down, Gally shoved him back against the ladder; not out of hate, his eyes told them, but pure fear. “Stay back!” he roared, already sprinting in Newt’s direction.  
> The train charged towards them, faster and faster. Lesley’s legs were moving before she’d even put the thought together, sending her careening down the tunnel, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The train was too close, and Newt too far away. Except for Gally -
> 
> (in which the Gladers decide to trust Gally, their plans are momentarily derailed, and Newt makes a bad pun.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we goooo!! Sorry for the delay in this one, I was getting all those Christmas pics ready. Anyway, enjoy!! :D <3

“Ugh,” Newt announced. “This is gross.”

Sniggering, Lesley swung the beam of the flashlight around. They were in a cylindrical brick tunnel about eight feet high, reeking of mould and sewage. “Yeah, this is great,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Jesus,” Thomas groaned in disgust as he reached the bottom of the ladder, noting the muddy water swirling around their shoes. Above them, Brenda, Frypan and Jorge peered anxiously down the manhole, watching.

Rolling his eyes, Gally reached for the power box on the wall and yanked on a lever. The whir of a generator echoed jarringly around them before the tunnel exploded with light, Lesley’s hand flying up to shield her eyes. A string of singular bulbs turned on one by one, stretching down the passage away from them.

“Stay with me,” Gally told them, grabbing the flashlight off Lesley and starting forward. “We got a ways to go.”

They had been walking for about a minute before Lesley could no longer stand the silence. “So, you have a lot of faith in this Lawrence guy, huh?” she began conversationally.

“Yeah, how did you end up with a bloody Crank as a roommate?” Newt asked, frowning. Lesley flinched at the disgust in his voice.

Gally was silent for a long moment. “I actually owe that Crank my life,” he replied. “When Lawrence and his crew found me, they could’ve sold me back to WCKD, or traded my life for a few bottles of serum.” He shrugged. “Instead, he offered me a place. Thought I had something worth living for.”

“What’s that?” Thomas asked.

“Revenge.”

They reached a fork in the tunnel. Without missing a beat, Gally clicked on his flashlight and shone it down the left-hand path.

Lesley’s brow creased, her head tilting. “What are _you_ living for, though?” she asked quietly.

Gally stiffened. Clearing his throat, he turned to look at the three of them. “Wait here,” he said, choosing not to answer. “I’ll be right back.”

A second later he was gone, vanishing into the darkness.

“Where’s he going?” Thomas muttered, peering down the tunnel after Gally. He glanced at Lesley and Newt. “You really think we should trust him? After everything he’s done?”

Lesley tensed. “Thomas, you haven’t known Gally very long,” she began carefully, fighting back a surge of irritation. “Shuck, even I’ve only known him a few months longer than you have. But ... he was different before you came up in the Box.”

She longed for those nights of drinking moonshine together and wrestling under the stars as the other Gladers cheered them on; for those days Gally spent encouraging her as she tried the various jobs around the Glade before her Choosing; for those quiet moments of conversation and knot work, of jokes and banter and smiles so wide her face hurt. She missed those times; she wished she could have held onto them for longer.

“He didn’t really show it to you,” Lesley said, shaking her head clear, “but he was a good guy.”

Newt nodded firmly in agreement. “I know this might be hard for you to believe, Thomas,” he said, “but there was a time when Gally was a true friend of mine. Of _ours_.”

Thomas frowned. “Guys, I get it, but it’s been _months_ since the Glade. What if he’s not the same person you keep remembering him as?”

“And we are?” Lesley scoffed.

Newt shook his head. “Tommy, what other options do we have?”

Sighing, Thomas opened his mouth to speak again when the soft tread of footsteps caught their attention. Reaching for her knife, Lesley’s eyes flicked to the tunnel.

Gally was crouched there, flashlight in hand. “Come on,” he said, his tone unreadable; Lesley wondered how much of their conversation he had heard. “Make sure to duck; the ceiling's pretty low.”

With that, he disappeared. Her jaw tightening, Lesley pushed past Thomas to follow after him, muttering under her breath about stubborn boys and old grudges. She wasn’t even sure herself how many she held against Gally.

But even now, he seemed different; softer in a way. As if the suppressed rage of his adolescence had morphed into something quieter, yet far stronger - and arguably more forgiving, from what she had witnessed so far. She wanted to get to know him again.

But she didn’t know how to bridge the gap between their past and present selves.

“Come on, Tommy,” Newt said softly before the staggered _thud_ of his steps echoed about the tunnel.

It was a long moment before Lesley heard Thomas following after them.

o-o-o-o-o

They had no concept of the passing time, only the cold, damp blackness surrounding them. A grimace twisted Lesley’s face, her back aching from the constant crouching. She hated not knowing where they were going, her eyes fixed on the beam of the flashlight.

Gally ducked into a narrow side passage through a broken wall, the tunnel shrinking to barely four feet high. “Alright, this way,” he called.

Lesley shivered at the sudden breeze swirling around them, hearing the faint howl of wind through the tunnel somewhere. She eyed the hole in the brickwork ahead of them, large enough for only one person to squeeze through; it was illuminated from beyond.

There was a faint roaring sound and the tunnel began to quake around them. Newt looked about wildly, grabbing Thomas’s arm. Lesley’s blood ran cold, the noise reminding her of the unforgettable crash of steel on steel as she was hauled up to the Glade in the Box.

“Hold up,” Gally called, coming to a stop at the end of the short passage. He cautiously peered out through the gap in the wall.

A blinding light suddenly washed over them and a train thundered past, so fast it was a blur of orange and white.

“Okay, we gotta be quick about this!” Gally yelled over the roar of noise. “We don’t have a lot of time! Stay on me, okay?”

Lesley felt a pinch in her gut at the glimpse of the person Gally had once been.

Just as fast as it had arrived, the train disappeared. Gally peered out into the tunnel, looking left and right. “Okay, let’s go!” he shouted.

One after the other, they scrambled through the opening and hopped down onto a rocky, gravelly surface five feet below. As Gally placed a vent onto the wall to hide the gap in the wall, Lesley looked up and down the tunnel; she eyed the train tracks stretching in either direction, the gleaming silver in stark contrast to the rusting metal of the Scorch lines.

“Great,” Newt muttered sarcastically. “Tommy loves trains, don’t you, mate?”

As Thomas pulled a face, Gally started to run. “Good, ‘cause you’ll see another one real soon!” he called, an anxious edge to his voice. “Come on!”

“Another one?” Lesley repeated weakly, her chest tightening as she glanced at Newt and Thomas. The tunnel wasn’t wide enough for both them and the train.

“Let’s go!” Gally urged.

They set off without another word, making a unanimous decision to trust Gally, for better or worse. Lesley felt a strange sense of ease as they sprinted in a line down the centre of the train track, the tunnel walls looming over them; it reminded her of being back in the Maze, bringing with it an unexpected feeling of comfort.

Their ragged panting filled the space, their footsteps echoing eerily around them. Time stretched, the minutes passing, but still Gally did not slow.

“Gally, what the hell are we doing?” Thomas finally shouted, exasperated.

“Less talking, more running!” Gally yelled over his shoulder.

Lesley almost fell over at a deep, distant cranking sound, the silver tracks on either side of her feet starting to shake violently. “Oh, shit,” she gasped.

Suddenly, a siren began to blare.

Newt’s eyes widened, and Thomas looked about in alarm. “Gally?” he called nervously.

Gally didn’t slow. “Come on, we’re almost there!”

Gritting her teeth, Lesley put on a burst of speed. She was suddenly back in the Maze; it _always_ led back to the Maze. She was running for her life, her heart thrashing in her ribcage, anxiety twisting her gut -

A blindingly bright light rounded the corner at the far end of the tunnel. Throwing a hand up to shield her eyes, Lesley squinted at the glaring beam, a weight dropping in her stomach. 

It was another train.

“Hurry!” Thomas shouted. “Come on, we gotta move! Come on!”

Lesley’s heart shuddered, panic slamming through her. The sound of a stumble grabbed her attention, her head jerking around. “Newt!” she cried.

He waved his arm, righting himself. “Bloody move it!”

The blast of the train horn echoed deafeningly about them. The walls pressed in around Lesley, suffocating her.

“There!” Gally roared, pointing to something on the side of the tunnel.

It was just several handles of metal attached to the concrete wall, but Lesley had never been so glad to see the damn ladder. She ran for it, hopping over the tracks; Gally started to climb.

There was a ragged gasp; Newt’s right leg buckled beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground far, _far_ behind them.

Thomas stumbled into Lesley. “Newt!” he yelled, his eyes wide.

His expression desperate, his face white with terror, Newt tried to get to his feet, his right leg visibly shaking with the strain.

“ _Newt_!” Lesley screamed.

Thomas started forward. Jumping down, Gally shoved him back against the ladder; not out of hate, his eyes told them, but pure fear. “Stay back!” he roared, already sprinting in Newt’s direction.

The train charged towards them, faster and faster. Lesley’s legs were moving before she’d even put the thought together, sending her careening down the tunnel, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The train was too close, and Newt too far away. Except for Gally - _Gally_ -

Footsteps behind her - the shriek of metal - a blinding light -

“LES!” Thomas yelled, grabbing her jacket and shoving her flat against the wall.

Lesley got one final glimpse of Gally bowling into Newt, sending them both crashing towards the ground as the train ploughed into them.

A scream died in Lesley’s throat; she clung to Thomas, claustrophobia clawing at her, strangling her as train car after train car passed by them barely inches away. Seconds passed like hours, eternal and unforgiving; finally the noise lessened, the screech of metal slowly fading as the last train car went by.

Silence fell.

Turning her head, Lesley caught a glimpse of their still bodies in the deep rut between the rail lines and felt the ground fall away beneath her.

A choked sob burst from her mouth, her eyes burning. Thomas crushed her against his chest, Lesley barely glimpsing the look of overwhelming grief on his features before she buried her face in his shoulder. “ _Newt_ ,” she cried.

She couldn’t breathe, her knees shaking, threatening to buckle on her. Something in her chest shattered, caving in, a chasm churning with long-forgotten grief and sheer agony, of friends and brothers she had lost one by one -

“Ugghhh ...”

Lesley spun so fast she nearly tripped over Thomas, a gasp tearing from her mouth.

“Well, that was a first,” Gally commented, getting to his knees. “Thank shuck we hit the ground in time.”

Lying on the ground beside him, Newt rolled his eyes. “Bloody _hell_ -”

Gasping, Lesley bolted towards them, Thomas on her heels. She stumbled over the rail lines, tears blinding her vision. _They’re alive they’re alive they’re alive!_

There was a weak chuckle from Gally. “Never great Runners, were we, Newt?” he panted, extending his hand.

Giving a short laugh, Newt grabbed Gally’s forearm and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “Well, I’ve only got one good leg,” he reasoned.

“And I’ve only got one good lung,” Gally added, rolling the same shoulder that had been imbedded with a spear. “What a pair of -”

“Newt!” Lesley cried, throwing her arms around him and clutching him to her. She could feel his body shaking, his heart thudding against her. “Newt, for the love of - don’t ever scare us like that again!”

Newt hugged her tighter. “I’ll try.” When another sob wracked Lesley’s body, he pulled back, gripping her shoulders and looking her in the eyes. “Hey, hey. I’m alright. See?”

Lesley frantically wiped at her eyes. “I know, I know,” she choked out. She smiled shakily. “Next time try warning us _before_ you get run over.”

Newt shrugged, grinning weakly. “I was trying to think of something to say, then it bloody hit me.”

A pause.

“Jesus, Newt,” Thomas groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Lesley bit down on her lip to stop herself laughing. “I’m going to shatter you like glass,” she threatened.

Thomas stepped forward, eyeing Newt’s still pale face as their chuckles faded into silence. “You sure you’re okay?”

Newt nodded. His expression crumbling, Thomas hauled him into a fierce embrace, clapping him firmly on the back as if to reassure himself Newt was really there. Lesley felt something stir in her chest, tender and warm all at once.

“We need to keep moving,” Gally interjected quietly.

Lesley suddenly remembered he was there. She whirled around, her emotions strangling her. “And _you_!” she growled, launching herself at Gally; he stumbled back, his eyes wide. _Good_. Shucking almighty, she was going to kick him, or punch him - “What the _hell_ was that?!”

A second too late, she realised she was hugging him.

Just as Gally’s hand awkwardly patted her shoulder, Lesley lurched backwards, her adrenaline slipping enough that her grief surged forward.

It suddenly hit her how much she still cared about Gally.

She glanced behind her just as Thomas released Newt - but not before he squeezed his hand. Lesley swallowed thickly. “Thank you, Gally,” she whispered, not daring to speak any louder. She shook her head, her throat tightening painfully. “If he - if Newt had -”

There were no words that could ever be enough.

Gally didn’t answer, but a kind smile tugged at his mouth. “Come on,” he said instead, beckoning for them to follow. “This way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, we got there! Thank you so much for reading!! :D
> 
> This is the first chapter upload since James Dashner confirmed that Newt is gay!! <3 I’m so so happy about that announcement, I burst into tears reading the tweet. I just. Representation is so, SO important.
> 
> I was really glad to add this deleted scene in, I’m gutted they didn’t explore more of Newt’s backstory in the films - and when they DID, it got cut from the theatrical version! - so I’m putting it in here. Newt’s history will become more relevant in the future chapters as well.
> 
> I haven’t written an action scene in a little while, so that was a fun challenge!! Trying to make sure every line is kinda BANG BANG BANG BANG rather than the slow wandering (impactful) conversations I’ve mainly been doing for Nowhere to Run so far. Hope it got the adrenaline pumping for you as well!
> 
> That little Gally/Lesley moment at the end there was one of my faves to write. Partly because it's hilarious that Gally's scared she'll beat the shit out of him, but also because their entire relationship with Gally IS very complicated now. As she thought earlier, she doesn't know how to connect that bridge between the past and present selves, and I'm really excited to touch more on this and see them slowly grow closer together again - or here's hoping!!
> 
> Yes, that was a train pun. *GROANS* I love these dumb boys. That’s probably the shock hitting Newt haha.
> 
> And on that note … YES, Newtmas is steadily sneaking its way into the story!! It’s not going to be the sole focus of this fic since this is Lesley’s story, but it’s going to be in the background if you’re paying attention! ;D I just love the idea that things started changing between them during the six months following the Right Arm camp. They’re still tentative, nervous … but you can see the start of things.  
> Back in the Scorch at the Crank party, I’m keeping Thomas’s line of “You’re not her.” I’m going with the idea that his feelings for Newt have grown stronger since.
> 
> Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to you all!! Thank you so much for supporting my writing this year, in whatever way you did - reading, kudos, comments. You’re all legends and I love you. Wishing you all the best for the New Year as well!
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic! Thank you for keeping me inspired <3


	13. A Mutual Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The outskirts of the city were far from the glamour of the train station and more akin to the devastation Lesley had seen elsewhere. Barbed wire fences surrounded derelict buildings, a broken highway overpass curving into nothingness overhead.  
> Towering above them, unfathomably high, was the dreaded wall.  
> Gargantuan cranes hovered over them in the sky; when Gally saw her tilting her head back to look, he pointed to the minuscule figures in neon vests moving along the top of the wall. “They’re reinforcing it,” he told her.  
> “Not like they need to,” Lesley snorted. From what she had been able to ascertain since their arrival in the city, the wall was forty or fifty feet wide, never mind its height.  
> Gally sniggered. “Apparently WCKD’s scared shitless we’re gonna gain the ability to walk through walls.”  
> Lesley cracked a grin. “Damn, that would’ve been helpful six months ago.”
> 
> (in which the Gladers explore the city, Lesley struggles to scale a wall, and an old friend makes an appearance.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!! Hope you had a good holiday :"D I know it's been a month since I updated, and I truly apologise for that. Anyways, hope you enjoy this one!!

A series of vents later, they emerged into a dim maintenance tunnel. Lesley’s stomach churned at the hundreds of footsteps pounding around them, steadily increasing in volume. It suddenly hit her: they really were on the other side of the wall.

“Just through here,” Gally said; a few seconds later, he jerked a door open with a harsh squeak, the outside noise crashing over them. He peered out, looking to either side before slipping through the entranceway.

Taking a deep breath, Lesley followed after Thomas and Newt, keeping her eyes fixed on Gally. The four of them joined a steady stream of people all moving in the same direction, pressing around them, surgical masks adorning their faces.

Glancing discreetly to either side, Lesley noticed that nearly everyone was wearing formal suits, briefcases hanging at their sides. She grimaced, once again horrifically aware how out of place they looked in their scavenged attire - Gally even had a _hoodie_ on, for shuck’s sake.

A robotic voice blared over the loudspeakers: _“Red zone departing the station in five minutes. Thank you.”_

A long line of people stood beside a door leading to the bus terminal, and they weren’t alone. Swarming around the exit were soldiers in black uniforms, all with _WCKD_ stamped across the breast as they carefully examined everyone leaving the premises, shining bright flashlights in their eyes. Lesley quickly ducked her head.

“Infection checks,” Gally explained quietly. “All you gotta do is sneeze around here and you get checked out. That’s the, uh, price of paradise, I guess.”

They hurried up a set of stairs, emerging into a courtyard blazing with signs directing them to other train platforms. Lesley almost gasped in relief at the clear night air that hit her lungs, so much fresher than the stale atmosphere of the tunnels.

But it was the view stretching out before them that sent her crashing to a halt.

Newt swallowed thickly, his eyes wide. “This is a long way from the Glade,” he choked out, and Lesley could only nod dumbly in agreement.

Back then, all they had ever known was the simple lives of farmers, waking at dawn to tend to their crops and working with the limited supplies the Creators gave them each month. The Scorch hadn’t been much better, all of them scavenging whatever resources they could to survive in the desolate wasteland.

But here, it was as if every single technological advancement had been crammed into one place.

Monorails soared through the air, a red and a blue line cutting through the city on elevated tracks in separate directions; skyscrapers climbed towards the heavens, as high as the walls of the Maze; digital billboards displayed advertisements for every passerby to look at, similar to the high-tech installations they had glimpsed at WCKD’s facilities.

Lesley shuddered as a commercial flashed across several of the screens, reading in stark white lettering: _WCKD NEEDS YOU!_

The chime of a public service announcement rang out, a woman’s voice calmly floating through the air. _“Fifteen minutes to mandatory curfew. Please proceed home in an orderly fashion. Remember, this is for your safety. Thank you for your compliance. I repeat, fifteen minutes to mandatory curfew.”_

Gally cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “Yeah, we’d better get off these streets,” he grimaced. “And I know it’s hard, but act like you’ve seen it before.”

Lesley shook her head, staring at Thomas and Newt, both of them looking as bewildered as she felt. Whatever they had been told about the city, what little they had glimpsed from the other side of the valley ... _nothing_ could have prepared them for this.

“Come on,” Newt said quietly. “Let’s go.”

Taking the steps two at a time down onto the main promenade, they made it several blocks before they came across their first patrol car. Sirens blaring, it went roaring down the street, its harsh red and blue lights ricocheting off the buildings and making Lesley squint. The four of them hid in the shadows; when Gally signalled the coast was clear, they made a dash across the intersection.

Advertisements flashed blindingly on the billboards above them. ‘ _A Vita Pack a day keeps the Flare away!’_ one read in an obnoxiously chirpy tone.

Lesley fought back a snort. _Like that would be enough._

At the sound of approaching sirens they pressed themselves against the windows of another establishment, the word _PORTSIDE_ displayed across its front in blazing white neon above them. Jammed between Gally and Thomas, Lesley found her gaze lifting to the surrounding buildings; the architecture was unlike anything she had ever seen before, sleek and ethereal and _new_.

“Shh, shh,” Newt whispered.

A second and third armoured vehicle suddenly came screeching around the corner, alarms wailing. None of them breathed until the trucks passed, racing off into the night.

“They’ve definitely upped security,” Gally commented. He glanced sideways, looking a mixture of amused and exasperated. “I’m guessing you shanks have something to do with that.”

Lesley smiled sweetly at him. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

Newt huffed with quiet laughter. “Don’t flatter yourself, Les,” he teased.

She fought the urge to kick him as Thomas anxiously peered about, his neck craning as he looked past Gally. “Well, we are WCKD’s most wanted for a reason,” he muttered.

Gally caught his eye. “Alright, let’s get out of here,” he said.

They took off across the intersection. Her heart racing with the thrill of the sprint, reminding her of her days as a Runner, Lesley focused on the thud of their boots hitting the ground with each step, on the hushed sounds of their breathing as they plunged deeper into the city.

o-o-o-o-o

The outskirts of the city were far from the glamour of the train station and more akin to the devastation Lesley had seen elsewhere. Barbed wire fences surrounded derelict buildings, a broken highway overpass curving into nothingness overhead.

Towering above them, unfathomably high, was the dreaded wall.

Gargantuan cranes hovered over them in the sky; when Gally saw her tilting her head back to look, he pointed to the minuscule figures in neon vests moving along the top of the wall. “They’re reinforcing it,” he told her.

“Not like they need to,” Lesley snorted. From what she had been able to ascertain since their arrival in the city, the wall was forty or fifty feet _wide_ , never mind its height.

Gally sniggered. “Apparently WCKD’s scared shitless we’re gonna gain the ability to walk through walls.”

Lesley cracked a grin. “Damn, that would’ve been helpful six months ago.”

Crossing a dilapidated road, the asphalt worn and cracked beneath their boots, the four of them reached the very bottom of the wall; above them was a ledge, just out of reach.

“Alright, Newt, you’re up,” Gally said.

He bent his knees, holding his palms flat in front of him. Newt carefully stepped onto his hands with his good leg and Gally pushed him upwards; he grunted quietly, grabbing the concrete rim and hauling himself up onto the ledge.

“Lesley,” Gally called, flexing his fingers and looking at her expectantly as he stooped into a crouch a second time.

Newt leaned over the edge, stretching out his arm. “I got you, Les.”

She couldn’t help smiling, reminded of when Newt and Gally pulled her out of the Box; a moment that now seemed an eternity ago, when they had been nothing but strangers.

She paused, yanking at her sleeve. “Other hand,” she muttered. “My wrist hurts.”

Newt shook his head. “Always in the wars, aren’t ya?” he teased, reaching out his opposite arm.

Smiling back tightly, Lesley carefully placed her foot in Gally’s palms, grabbing Newt’s hand and allowing him to help pull her over the edge as Gally pushed her up. “Thanks,” she called.

“Welcome, shank.” Gally looked at Thomas pointedly and held out his hands again.

Thomas shook his head. “I got it.”

With that, he bent his knees and jumped up, grabbing the ledge and pulling himself up; Gally rolled his eyes. “Show off,” Lesley muttered fondly.

She reached over and extended her hand to Gally. “Here,” she said.

He stared at her curiously for a long moment before the flicker of a smile appeared on his face. _Just like old times_.

However, he gave a small shake of his head and jumped up after Thomas.

o-o-o-o-o

Gally led them to a dusty, abandoned staircase laid into the gargantuan wall, and from there it was a steady climb upwards.

Lesley’s chest constricted tighter the higher she climbed, her own body fighting her, begging for a rest. “Hold up,” she finally gasped, an itch tearing at her throat, threatening to burst from her mouth. “I need to - need to rest a second.”

“Les, hey, Lesley?” Thomas asked worriedly as she lowered herself onto the staircase, clutching her chest. “You alright?”

Gally moved as if to touch her shoulder but hesitated at the last second, his hand falling away. “Lesley?” he called instead.

Lesley shook her head, out of breath. “I’m not great with heights, apparently.”

The words came easily enough; _too_ easily.

“It was the Scorch scrapers, wasn’t it?” Thomas asked quietly.

Lesley gratefully jumped on the suggestion, nodding. “Yeah.” She turned her head, unable to hold back a few coughs. “Wasn’t our finest moment.”

She could still remember the feeling of utter horror as the glass floor dropped away beneath her feet.

Thomas huffed out a laugh. “You and Brenda were fighting off that Crank pretty good before I stepped in.”

“Our girls are tough as nails,” Newt confirmed, the trace of pride in his voice nurturing something soft and warm in Lesley’s heart.

Her eyes watering as her coughing subsided, she glanced up at Newt. “How’s your leg?”

Newt spluttered with laughter, patting her back. “Blimey, Les, it’s fine; you don’t have to worry about _me_ -”

Lesley smiled tightly. “Someone has to.” Forcing herself upright again, she shook his hand off. “Come on, let’s go.”

Gally reached the top of the stairs first, barely out of breath; he had clearly made the climb multiple times before. “There it is,” he said as the other three filed onto the landing behind him.

Lesley’s jaw fell open in awe. The view was even better from a height; the city was _gorgeous_ , the skyscrapers shining in the night with dazzling clarity, everything laid out before them in tidy, picture-perfect blocks. The sight was utterly breathtaking even if the entire metropolis had WCKD quite literally written all over it.

Curfew was now well in effect, and the streets below were empty as far as they could see; Lesley wondered what the place looked like during the day, thrumming with noise, with music, with people.

She wondered if that was what life had been like before the Scorch, before the Flare; before the end of the world.

Gally pointed to a chic, black tiled skyscraper rising up in the centre of the city. Large neon blue letters reading _WCKD_ lit up the side of the building. “If WCKD’s got Minho, that’s where they’ll be keeping him. They’ve got three or four scrapers all joined together; it’s one hell of a complex.”

He turned away, reaching beneath a discarded sheet of metal propped up against the wall. A moment later, he pulled out a telescope and attached it to a jutting pipe on the railing.

“Lawrence has been trying to find a way in for years,” Gally told them. He peered through the eyepiece, checking his position. “Place is crawling with soldiers. They got surveillance everywhere; scanners on every floor.”

“And here I was thinking the train snatch had been complicated,” Lesley groaned. Gally gave a quizzical look but didn’t ask.

Newt stared at the building, a deep crease in his brow. “Sounds like a bloody fortress,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I thought you said you had a way in?” Thomas interjected.

Gally was silent for a few moments, his expression unreadable. “I might,” he said finally.

Thomas stared at him incredulously. “You _might_?” he repeated, his body suddenly rigid. “What the hell do you mean _might_?”

“Gally,” Lesley started, her teeth gritted. “If this is some kind of shucking prank -”

“You said you could get us in there,” Thomas said angrily. “Okay? We’re following your lead here. We trusted you; we didn’t have to do that -”

“Yeah, alright, let’s get a few things straight first, otherwise there’s no point in going any further,” Gally cut him off. He sighed heavily, a crushing agony seeping into his expression. “Look, I know what I did, okay? I may not remember, but I know. I see Chuck’s face every time I close my eyes.”

Her anger disappearing as fast as it had surged, Lesley looked away, a lump forming in her throat. Beside her, Thomas’s eyes glistened.

Gally swallowed thickly. “The others didn’t make it, did they? Jack? Winston?”

His expression tightening, Newt shook his head. “Cranks,” was all he said.

A long pause. “I’m sorry,” Gally whispered.

Her shaking hands curling into fists, Lesley looked away.

Gally gripped the railing tighter, avoiding their gazes again. “Listen, we don’t have to be friends,” he began.

 _I want us to be._ Lesley’s heart ached with a deep longing for times that had been, for friendships that had never been broken, for brotherhoods that had never been lost.

“And I’m not asking for anybody’s forgiveness,” Gally continued. “I’m asking that we put it behind us because we want the same thing; none of this works unless we trust each other, alright? And after this, we go our separate ways -”

“No,” Lesley blurted out before she could stop herself.

Gally, Newt and Thomas all turned to look at her, but she stared at them adamantly. “No,” she repeated. “I’m not leaving any more of my family behind.”

_But ... was that what Gally was? After all this time?_

Gally smiled tightly. “We’ll see, Les.”

Her resolve crumbled. _Yes; of course he still was._

Newt looked at Thomas, a quiet, pleading wretchedness in his eyes; begging for their differences to be put aside for a moment.

Finally, Thomas swallowed his pride. “Okay,” he relented, nodding. “Okay, what’s your plan?”

Lesley felt the iron band around her torso loosen a little.

Gally sighed heavily. He screwed the final bolt of the telescope into place and stepped back. “Take a look,” he invited.

Hesitantly stooping down, Thomas squinted through the scope. He moved it slowly from side to side, scanning the building, adjusting the focus ... and froze, inhaling sharply.

Thomas staggered backwards, his features strained. Lesley saw the shattered, longing expression in his eyes and had a bad feeling she knew what - or more specifically _who_ \- he had just seen.

“I said I had a way in,” Gally told them, his arms folded. “I didn’t say you were gonna like it.”

Lesley moved in and jammed her eye against the lens, sweeping the scene with a trace of apprehension. She stared into the series of labs, all bright lights and bland decor mixed in with scientific apparatus and medical equipment -

Pain shot through her chest.

Standing at one of the desks, scribbling away on a clipboard in her hands, was Teresa.

Grimacing, Lesley stepped aside so Newt could have a look; from the dark expression on his face, he already knew what awaited him through the eyepiece.

Newt sighed. “Mutual friend, huh?” he drawled, unimpressed.

Lesley laughed humourlessly. “This whole mess just got ten times better, didn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A WILD TERESA APPEARS!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! I know it’s not the most exciting at the moment, but major things are about to happen in terms of scenes/plot, so I’m hoping you all can bear with me just a little longer.
> 
> So, about the chapter! Got a few more deleted lines in there from the train station and from up at the top of the wall! That bit with Gally talking about Chuck is one of my favourites, it was so nice to add it in and ties up that side of things so Gally knows what happened to the others. I’m adding as much as I can from the extended content (provided that it works into my own plot lines, of course).
> 
> Touching on the little moments with Gally here. Lesley keeps seeing glimpses of the boy she knew back in the Glade, and that’s going to become very important for her future interactions with Gally. I’m putting all the building blocks in place, so to speak. I’m really enjoying delving into her thoughts. I was rereading a few bits from Born to Run, it makes me weirdly emotional thinking about when they helped Lesley out of the Box all that time ago. They’ve all grown so SO much since then.
> 
> Want to say a massive thank you to Sherbert_seat_belts for still believing in this story, you are an absolute gem.
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic! Thank you for keeping me inspired <3


	14. Windows to the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesley began to advance on him; Thomas stumbled backwards into the wall. “I trusted you,” she growled, a dangerous edge to her voice. “I put everything on the line for you. Shuck, I trusted you with Minho’s life, and now you’re just gonna throw it away?” She pressed into his space. “You’re just gonna forget what she did to us?”  
> “Lesley?” Brenda called quietly, rising from her seat.  
> Newt grabbed her arm, holding her back. His mind reeled. It had been no secret how close Lesley and Minho had grown during their time as Runners. Not for the first time, he wondered just how deeply Minho’s capture had affected her.  
> He had seen Lesley mad before, verging on downright furious. He had seen her scream and cry and throw punches hard enough to knock someone out. But nothing like this. No, this kind of anger was much darker, something far more feral, almost like -  
> Newt’s mind staggered to a halt as he thought of the one explanation that suddenly, horrifically, made everything make sense.
> 
> (in which Gally attempts to make a plan, Minho’s captivity continues to tear Lesley apart, and the Gladers’ world crumbles.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note, I changed a few lines in the last chapter when they’re climbing the stairs up the wall. I redid the scene and forgot to copy the edited version to my upload doc and didn’t realise until a few days later *facepalm* (I don’t normally edit once I’ve uploaded, but it was bugging the hell out of me haha)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter!!! I think a few of you already know what’s coming … ;) (also, mild language warning)

“Bugger,” Newt mused, grimacing.

“Yeah,” Gally agreed, looking up from the city maps littering their workspace.

The following morning found the Gladers crammed around a table, hunched over city maps and scrawled timetables with everything from curfews and train schedules, to guard rotations and movements of WCKD employees. It was clear that Lawrence and his followers had not been idle during their stay in the hideout, everything the Gladers could possibly need laid out before them in frightening detail.

Frypan folded his arms. “Remember back at the Right Arm camp? She was pretty upset when we wouldn’t cooperate.”

Jorge snorted. “You mean when you’d’ve rather blown yourselves sky high than go back to WCKD?”

“Wait, for real?” Gally said. When Newt nodded, jabbing a thumb at Thomas, he gave a low whistle. “Damn, Greenie. You really grew a set, huh?”

Frypan cracked a smile, but Thomas didn’t.

Newt scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe she still cares.” He glanced at Gally. “She’s probably the only person there who won’t turn us in on sight.”

“Exactly,” Gally said, nodding. “It’s not much, but it’s all we’ve got. If anything, she’ll try and convince everyone to see things her way.” His gaze shifted. “Especially you, Thomas.”

Thomas bristled. “No,” he said forcefully, finally turning away from the wall. “There’s gotta be another way.”

“Like what?” Gally pressed, rolling his eyes in frustration. “You’ve seen the building. She _is_ our only way in.”

“You really think she’s gonna help us?” Thomas asked.

“I don’t plan on asking for her permission.”

“Am I missing something here?” Brenda asked incredulously, rubbing her face tiredly. “This is the same girl who betrayed us, correct? Same dick?”

Gally pointed his thumb at Brenda. “I like her.”

She ignored him. “What’s going on?” Brenda asked Thomas softly.

Thomas continued to pace, his hands on his hips. He shook his head, avoiding their gazes.

Leaning quietly on the far side of the table in the shadows, Lesley’s fists clenched. “Oh, let’s all hold hands and make shucking daisy chains while we’re at it,” she snapped.

All eyes darted to Lesley, her expression frighteningly hostile as she glared at Thomas.

He looked staggered by her outburst. “Les?”

Lesley’s jaw clenched, her eyes cold. “This whole plan has never just been about bringing Minho home, has it? This just been a little side project for you, huh?”

Thomas blinked, his frown deepening. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Teresa,” she snapped as if it were obvious. She drew herself up to her full height, rising several inches above him. “Don’t you remember the Scorch? The Right Arm? Our _camp_? She’s the _only_ reason Minho was even captured in the first place!”

“I - it’s not -” Thomas began weakly.

Lesley began to advance on him; Thomas stumbled backwards into the wall. “I trusted you,” she growled, a dangerous edge to her voice. “I put _everything_ on the line for you. Shuck, I trusted you with _Minho’s_ life, and now you’re just gonna throw it away?” She pressed into his space. “You’re just gonna _forget_ what she did to us?”

“Lesley?” Brenda called quietly, rising from her seat.

Newt grabbed her arm, holding her back. His mind reeled. It had been no secret how close Lesley and Minho had grown during their time as Runners. Not for the first time, he wondered just how deeply Minho’s capture had affected her.

He had seen Lesley mad before, verging on downright furious. He had seen her scream and cry and throw punches hard enough to knock someone out. But nothing like this. No, this kind of anger was much darker, something far more feral, almost like -

Newt’s mind staggered to a halt as he thought of the one explanation that suddenly, horrifically, made _everything_ make sense.

“It’s always been you two, right from the start; WCKD’s little _pets_ ,” Lesley spat, now nose to nose with Thomas, the others in the room completely forgotten. “Minho’s been _tortured_ , and all you wanna do is play happy families even after she watched our entire - world - _burn_. How many more people am I gonna have to lose because of her? Because of _WCKD_? I’ve lost Ben; I’ve lost Chad, Zart, Winston, _Chuck_ -”

Thomas’s eyes tightened painfully. “I _know_ , Les -”

“Do you?” Lesley snarled; Thomas flinched. “ _Do_ you, Thomas? No matter what we say, no matter what happens, _she’s_ holding you back and our friends are dropping dead faster than we can save them. Minho’s still out there! I’m running out of time -”

“Les -” Thomas tried, his eyes flicking to Newt.

Lesley’s vision blazed red; she simply _snapped_.

“I CAN’T LOSE HIM!” she screamed, slamming him back against the wall and snatching the knife from her belt, jamming it against his throat. “I can’t - _fucking_ \- _lose_ \- _him_ - _too_.”

No one moved; no one dared _breathe_. Brenda had a hand clamped over her mouth, eyes glistening with tears; Frypan’s jaw had dropped open; the fingers on Newt’s outstretched hand twitched, his expression downright alarmed. Thomas forced himself not to break eye contact again, but couldn’t stop the sweat beading on his brow as he felt the cool metal press against his skin, chafing with every nervous swallow.

Seconds ticked by, the tension in the air so thick it was suffocating.

With a quiet gasp, Lesley rocketed backwards, staring at Thomas in horror, tremors shuddering through her arm. She was barely aware that she had let go of her blade, the weapon clattering to the floor.

The hard lines of anger across her features twisted into a wretched look of utter devastation, the colour draining from her face. “I’m sorry,” she exhaled shakily, on the verge of passing out. “I -”

Without another word, she ran from the room, stumbling into the doorframe on her way past.

Lesley staggered blindly down the passageways, her heartbeat roaring in her ears, her stomach churning with nausea, panic clawing at her.

Shucking hell, she had done it now. She had lost control -

Hands grabbed her shoulders. “Hey, girl -”

She reeled back, bile rising in her throat. She recognised that voice; that _smell_.

_“Rose took my nose, I suppose ...”_

“Leave me alone!” she screamed.

White hot tears blinding her, she shoved past him, stumbling up a staircase, climbing faster and faster, higher and higher.

 _Get out!_ her mind screamed at her. _Get out!_

Lesley clutched at her head. “Stop it,” she sobbed. “Please, just _stop_ -”

But they had all seen her for what she truly was. _A monster_.

She cried out in agony, shoving through a door and into the blinding sunshine.

_Get out get out get out!_

o-o-o-o-o

A deafening silence was left in Lesley’s wake.

Thomas slumped back against the wall, panting heavily. Gally stared after Lesley with his mouth agape, a look of dawning realisation creeping across his horrified expression.

Newt gingerly stepped forward and picked up the knife, his thoughts racing as he turned it over in his hands. How had he not recognised the signs? The violent shake in her hands when she thought no one was looking and the sporadic bites of irritation when they least expected it, not to mention the disorientation and tiredness that plagued her. Little things he had simply attributed to fear and anxiety.

_Too many coincidences._

“You alright there, Tommy?” Newt asked suddenly.

Thomas blinked, thequietin the room abruptly shattered. “Uh, yeah, I think so.” He glanced towards the doorway, his face paling. “Newt,” he started quietly. He gulped, visibly struggling to speak.

His chest tightening painfully, the breath torn from his lungs, Newt didn’t know if he could bear to hear the words he knew Thomas would utter next. He closed his eyes, desperately begging the universe that they were wrong, that she was just hungry or exhausted or just shucking terrified she would never see Minho again.

“Newt ... _those weren’t Lesley’s eyes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MIC DROP.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this one!! It’s about half as long as all the others but I wanted to keep this moment in a chapter all by itself. I felt it really deserved the spotlight. (also ‘Windows to the Soul’ = the eyes. Remember Lawrence? “I see your eyes, and they tell me enough.”)
> 
> So, Newt has dodged a proverbial bullet … but at what cost?
> 
> Long thoughts ahead … :”D I know and understand Newt to an extent, however LESLEY I understand mind, body and soul. I wanted to explore the Crank mindset + the descent into madness, and I knew I could accomplish it better with poor Lesley. While I was writing Ready to Run, I had an idea for a scene that is happening waaaaay later on in Death Cure, and THAT was the moment that basically sealed Lesley’s fate as to whether she was immune or not.
> 
> I’m genuinely excited because this now sets off a whole NEW chain of events + dialogue + scenes, all of which I can’t WAIT to share with you!! (Once they’re written of course haha) BUT! It’s also opened up the opportunity for plenty more Newt scenes with (hopefully) a happier ending for our darling Newtie. CANON HAS FLED THE BUILDING!!
> 
> Honestly my passion for this story just got reignited now we’re up to here - it’s full steam ahead now!! I’ve been working away at this scene for about a year now, not even joking, and it’s been agonising having to wait to write everything else before I could post it!! I’m so happy with it, a bit of an adjustment/different direction from Newt’s rant that I hope had as much of an affect on you as it did me. What’s happening to Minho is tearing Lesley apart, and her stubbornness and determination to cling to those she loves for fear of losing them … might ultimately be her downfall.
> 
> Also I told myself back when I first started writing this fic that I could only have one F word in this entire series, and I had to make it count hehe. So this is where it ended up! I think it delivers the punchline I needed it to, let me know?!
> 
> Side note, I just received Crank Palace in the mail which I’m STOKED about but I’m not going to read it for a little bit - as much as I want to - so it doesn’t influence how I write the Crank state. I’m letting my imagination off the leash haha. It gives me the chance to OWN this plot line which I’m beyond excited about omg.
> 
> I’m kinda weirdly anxious to know how this chapter went for you all, so please feel free to let me know your thoughts down in the comments!! :”D Thank you for all your kudos and continued support, and as always keeping me bloody inspired :"D <3


	15. Turn Back the Clock [FLASHBACK]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brenda was sitting next to her on an upturned crate, her wide, cautious eyes brimming with misery.  
> Lesley’s throat tightened. “You saw.”  
> It wasn’t a question.  
> Brenda nodded silently. Lesley put her face in her hands, crushing the heels of her palms against her eyes, and a moment later Brenda hauled her into a fierce embrace.  
> “I’m sorry,” she whispered as Lesley shuddered against her. “I’m so, so sorry, Les.”  
> Not when they were so close to reaching the Safe Haven; not when Minho was still out there; not when they were so close to rescuing him.  
> “I thought I was gonna get a happy ending,” Lesley cried, “after everything -”  
> “I know,” Brenda whispered, her own eyes burning. “I know, Les.”
> 
> (in which we turn back the clock five days, Lesley and Brenda’s bond strengthens, and Newt likes his cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve really been looking forward to sharing this one. So yes, as mentioned in the title, this is a flashback, just cutting away from the action for a moment while I add context to things - and keep you in suspense for one more chapter! Hope you enjoy!! :”D

**_FIVE DAYS EARLIER  
  
_ **

* * *

  
Brenda stalked across the camp, grumbling under her breath. “Come on, Lesley,” she muttered. “Where have you got to?”

The sun bore down, blistering and relentless. She wiped a hand across her forehead, pushing the hair out of her eyes, thankful for the cool breeze rolling in off the ocean and sweeping through the Docks, providing a welcome reprieve from the heat.

The energy in the air was feverish, manic, everyone around her moving with a sense of excitement and purpose; the hope in the air was unmistakeable and infectious. It was an abrupt change from the monotonous pace they had suffered in the previous months, before WCKD had upped their game and started transporting their prisoners across the Scorch, the Right Arm hot on their trail.

With three days to go, they were in the midst of going through the equipment they would need for the train heist - as they had called it - and that included the two trucks and their respective supply kits. The clock was steadily ticking, and it didn’t help that one of their crew had vanished off the face of the earth.

“Oi, Lesley!” Brenda shouted, finally reaching the supply shed. “Those trucks aren’t gonna fix -!”

She staggered to a halt, a gasp tumbling from her mouth. “Les!” she yelped, bolting forward.

Lesley lay on the floor, unconscious and her face shockingly pale, a sheen of sweat across her features.

“No, no, no, no,” Brenda muttered, frantically checking her over. “Come on, Les, you’re alright; the heat isn’t _that_ big of a deal -”

Her heart shuddered in her chest.

Her fingers shaking, Brenda grabbed Lesley’s wrist and turned it over, tugging up her sleeve. The world slammed to a halt around her.

“ _Shit_ ,” she swore quietly.

Something crumbled inside her, the terror and agony that had once consumed her rising up again, breaking through the hastily sealed cracks.

Gritting her teeth, Brenda grabbed Lesley under her arms, starting to move but quickly stopping, carefully lowering her back to the floor. She knew from experience and multiple piggy-back races that as tall and slim as Lesley was, she had a lot of muscle; she wasn’t going to be able to lift her by herself.

“Shit,” she muttered again, yanking down Lesley’s sleeve and gripping her wrist tightly, hiding that which would give her away, cursing that it was all she could do. “Oh, _God_.”

Lesley deserved the first say in what happened to her from here on out, but hell, Brenda needed some help.

“Newt! Thomas!” she yelled, a note of panic in her voice she couldn’t hide as much as she tried. “Get your scrawny butts over here!”

She didn’t have to wait long; less than a minute later there was the pounding of footsteps moving in her direction. It was mere chance they hadn’t been out working on the ship that day, as was the norm when they weren’t hunched over train timetables or off on their own together.

Newt’s grumpy voice rapidly grew closer. “This better not be another one of your bloody - oh, _hell_ -”

Both he and Thomas all but collided with the doorframe, skidding to a halt at the sight that met their eyes.

“ _Shit_ ,” Thomas swore as he rushed forward, crashing to his knees with Newt right beside him. His hands darted frantically, as if scared to touch Lesley. “What happened?”

Still clutching Lesley’s wrist, Brenda shook her head. “It doesn’t take that long to get spare batteries; figured something was up and found her here.”

“Did she hit her head?” Newt asked, gently brushing his fingers over Lesley’s temple, searching. He carefully tilted her head to the side. “Can’t see any blood. Her skin feels a bit warm though,” he added worriedly, pressing the back of his hand to her cheek.

Thomas looked around. “Did anything fall?” he asked, searching for anything out of place.

“Not that I can see; I think she just passed out. Look,” Brenda started, and Newt blinked at the sudden sharpness of her tone, “can you just help me get her to her hammock?” She bit her lip, a sudden look of anxiety sweeping across her features. “Can’t do it myself,” she muttered.

Thomas nodded quickly, figuring she was just as worried as they were. “I’ll carry her,” he volunteered, carefully scooping Lesley up in his arms. “Come on, Les.”

“Watch her head,” Newt said quietly. “Careful.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got her ...”

o-o-o-o-o

Lesley awoke to a familiar cocoon of warmth surrounding her. Cracking her eyes open, she realised she was lying in her hammock in the main shed, the fabric gently cradling her body. Confusion swept over her; she frowned, trying to retrace her last steps.

Someone cleared their throat quietly. Lesley slowly turned her head, the sense of peace she had felt upon wakening falling away faster than she could catch it. _Oh._

Brenda was sitting next to her on an upturned crate, her wide, cautious eyes brimming with misery.

Lesley’s throat tightened. “You saw.”

It wasn’t a question.

Brenda nodded silently. Lesley put her face in her hands, crushing the heels of her palms against her eyes, and a moment later Brenda hauled her into a fierce embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as Lesley shuddered against her. “I’m so, so sorry, Les.”

_Not when they were so close to reaching the Safe Haven; not when Minho was still out there; not when they were so close to rescuing him._

“I thought I was gonna get a happy ending,” Lesley cried, “after _everything_ -”

“I know,” Brenda whispered, her own eyes burning. “I _know_ , Les.”

They stayed like that for a long time, holding on to one another for dear life. The world fell quiet between them even as it crumbled around them, a lighthouse amidst a raging sea.

“No one can know,” Lesley suddenly choked out.

Brenda swallowed hard, pulling back to see her face. “Not even Newt? Or Thomas?” she pressed. “Fry?”

Lesley jerked her head sharply. “Not even them.”

Brenda paused. “Lesley ... they _care_ about you,” she uttered quietly. “They helped get you to your hammock, and last I checked Thomas was ready to break down the door to check on you, since I wouldn’t let them in.”

Lesley made a noise of disagreement. “Minho - _Min_ is too important. They can’t lose focus now.” A hiccup. “Besides, you know how they all reacted when we turned up at the Right Arm and you passed out on their doorstep. Vince just about shot you on sight.”

They had been strangers then, but not even time had changed his reasoning. Lesley could still remember staring right down the barrel of his gun, daring Vince to shoot her.

 _Self fulfilling prophecy,_ she thought grimly.

Brenda sighed. “I wish ... I wish things were different,” she said quietly. Her expression tightened. “I still have nightmares of being chained up with the others back at Jorge’s hideout. It’s just endless screaming and a night so dark I can’t get out of it.”

Swallowing thickly, Lesley squeezed her hand. “You know, I can still picture you dancing through that lot,” she said. “You were brave as shuck. Pretty as hell, too.”

Brenda snorted, the sound watery. “Believe me, I was just about shitting myself the whole time.”

Both of them huffed with quiet laughter, the situation so far from funny they simply _had_ to make light of it. Lesley shuddered, her smile falling away; it was better than the alternative, thinking of what events lay in store for the both of them ... of the horrors she herself was about to experience.

Brenda shook her head, suddenly looking tired. “Guess I can’t blame you,” she said. “Ever since I got bitten, I can tell Jorge’s waiting for the day I’ll Crank out on him. _Again_.”

Lesley’s heart clenched. “And that’s what I want to spare them from,” she whispered. She exhaled shakily. “They’ve all got enough to worry about at the moment.”

Her expression softening, Brenda gripped Lesley’s hand tighter. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she told her earnestly. “Just ... don’t shut me out, alright?”

Lesley nodded. She gave a shaky smile. “Thanks, Bren.”

Brenda smiled sadly back at her. “Always, Les.”

o-o-o-o-o

“Hey, Les, how you doing?”

Lesley cracked her eyes open against the light, taking a second to focus on the blond boy standing over her. She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Newt stared at her, unconvinced. “Now, I’ve been around enough girls in my time -”

“Like, four.”

“You’re jacked in the head; it’s at _least_ seven,” Newt shot back, half-smiling. “But from what I’ve gathered - and correct me if I’m wrong - _I’m fine_ generally translates to _everything’s going to utter shit_.”

Lesley smiled tightly. “And they say boys don’t pay attention.”

“Must’ve caught me on a good day, then.” He gently pressed his fingers to her forehead. “Still a bit warm,” he muttered, looking at her concernedly. “You’re a bit too pale for my liking.”

Lesley shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. “I’ll be okay,” she said, inwardly cursing the shake in her voice.

Newt’s gaze was unrelenting as he pulled out the crate from beneath the hammock and sat down beside her. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I guess it comes down to the fact that if you’re not well enough, we’ll have to pull you from the mission,” he said seriously.

Nausea of a different kind crashed over Lesley. Her eyes widening, she tried to sit up but was pushed back by Newt. “No, Newt, you don’t understand -”

He shook his head. “What you gotta realise is we can’t have you conking out on us while you’re running across the top of a bloody train.”

Lesley barely smiled at the attempt of humour. “I’ll be okay,” she told him. When Newt raised his eyebrows, her expression hardened. “ _Really_. That was just a one off.”

Newt’s brow furrowed, his eyes flickering with concern. “What happened back there?” he asked softly. “Gave us a bloody good scare, you did.”

Lesley glanced down, her cheeks flushing. She fought not to grab her arm. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Newt gently took her shaking hand in his. “Come on, Les, what’s up?”

The seconds ticked by, the silence growing louder with every passing moment.

Finally, Lesley shook her head. “Dunno if it was the heat or something,” she muttered, still staring determinedly at the blanket covering her lap. She was terrified that Newt would see right through her explanation; he often seemed to know her thoughts before she’d even spoken them aloud. “Brenda asked me to get some batteries.”

“To store in the truck?” Newt prompted.

“Extras,” Lesley nodded. Her expression darkened. “And I … I don’t know. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what we’re about to do, how _everything_ in the last six months has been leading up to this.” She scrubbed at her eyes, pain ricocheting through her. _Keep it together. Keep it together._ “Had a bit of a panic attack. Next thing I knew I was waking up in my hammock.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but she had left out most of the story; an omission, rather.

“Hey, look at me.”

Swallowing thickly, Lesley finally met Newt’s eyes. She could have burst into tears right then and there, his gaze was so warm and overwhelmingly kind. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice cracking.

_I’m sorry for all the promises I won’t be able to keep._

_I’m sorry for the pain I’m about to cause you._

_I’m sorry ... for how I’m about to break you._

Newt squeezed her fingers. “It’s all going to work out,” he assured her. “Yeah? We’ve been planning this down to the _second_. We’ve been preparing for weeks now; we’re _ready_.” He smiled grimly. “WCKD won’t know what hit them.”

Lesley nodded, closing her eyes briefly. “I know; I _know_ , Newt,” she whispered, taking a deep breath. “I just ... had a moment.”

She almost believed the lie herself.

Newt watched her expression carefully. “Les, Tommy’ll be okay to change the plan if -”

“No, I _have_ to do this,” Lesley cut him off, her stare suddenly determined. “You know that Vince and Thomas are counting on me to be on the carriages with them. We don’t have time to train a replacement, and I don’t trust anyone else with the job. I’ve armed and disarmed that explosive so many times I could do it in my sleep if you asked me to.” She swallowed heavily. “Look, I _have_ to be there when we rescue him. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise if I knew I could have done something to help.”

Newt stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “Good that,” he said. He gave her hand another squeeze. “Get some rest, yeah? Would a cup of tea help?”

Lesley nodded, a warmth erupting in her chest, momentarily shielding her from the tumult of her thoughts.

“Alright, I’ll be back.” Rising to his feet, Newt smiled softly at her and gave the end of her braided hair a gentle, playful tug. “Just think, in a few days we’ll have Minho right here with us.”

Lesley couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face at his words. “Good that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was a (MUCH shorter) deleted scene I wrote a while ago to help give me some background as to what was happening with Lesley and to help me get into the mindset of the characters - since the first few chapters of the story kinda jump straight into things as if you’ve been following along with the characters for some time. This series of scenes was not going to make an appearance in the offical fic, however I found that cutting to the next scene made it feel like something was missing, and the addition of this chapter kinda smoothed things over - or at least I hope it does for you as a reader! I just polished it up and added pieces here and there (and plenty more dialogue/bants!).
> 
> Basically, the purpose of it is to establish what the stakes are. How things started etc, and I hope some of the character interactions now make a little more sense! (eg Newt’s suspicions at various points, like Lesley forgetting Brenda’s tunnel plan - and also Lesleys’ thoughts in general!) I really enjoyed writing the little moments with Brenda and Newt, and I really hope you did as well! It was nice to imagine what else would have been going on around the movie timeline. (Also this was originally going to be four days earlier, but I felt five was a more realistic timeline in terms of how Lesley is handling this.)
> 
> I was rereading the first few chapters of this fic to remind me what was happening back at the Docks and where the characters were at, and I’m genuinely so proud of this fic like. I haven’t read those parts in so long and without sounding like I’m bragging, I was really enjoying it :”D massive shoutout to all of you who are still here reading, I’m so thankful and this story really wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.
> 
> IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE!! I have a document filled with deleted/extended scenes for this fic series (including ones that are in the fic, but are from another character’s POV such as Newt or Minho’s). Wooouuuld anyone be interested if I uploaded them as part of a new fic work?  
> If no one does then just pretend you never saw this paragraph haha *runs and hides*
> 
> Once again thank you so much for reading, please feel free to let me know your thoughts down in the comments!! :”D Thank you for all your kudos and continued support, and as always keeping me inspired <3


	16. Black and Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My arm was itching something awful, and when I pulled up my sleeve to look ... well, you know what happened after that.” Lesley gave a shuddering breath, her grip on Newt’s hand so tight it verged on painful. “This isn’t how I wanted it to happen,” she bit out, her voice wavering dangerously. “I wanted to be the one to decide when I was going to tell you, but the shucking Flare stole that decision from me!” she all but screamed.  
> Newt and Thomas sat there in shocked silence as her voice echoed eerily off the concrete around them, both of them taken aback. Newt’s eyes burned with tears.  
> Her chest heaving, Lesley swallowed thickly, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “All this time, running the Maze, through the Scorch ... and yet I couldn’t outrun the Flare.” She laughed bitterly. “There’s nowhere for me to run now.”
> 
> (in which Lesley has some explaining to do, the puzzle pieces fall into place, and the reality of their world starts to set in.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to say a HUGE thank you to all of you for all your kind words on the last chapter!! Was a little nervous about that one but I’m glad its placement made sense. (And in terms of the extra doc, I’m looking through my works and editing them at the moment! Can’t say when I’ll start uploading them, but you’ll be the first to know <3 sldkjh it genuinely makes me so happy you’re excited to hear more of the story!)
> 
> Alright, here’s the chapter you’ve all been waiting for!! Hope you enjoy :”D

“Your friend went that way.”

Lawrence pointed vaguely at the stairs even as he clutched at his IV drip.

“Where?” Newt snarled.

He shrugged, his eyes almost amused. “The roof, for all I know.”

Newt’s heart lurched. _A towering wall, plummeting -_

Sprinting up the staircase with Thomas on his heels, he was suddenly out of his mind with worry, more so than he had been a few minutes earlier, dread churning his stomach.

_Not Les; not their Lesley -_

o-o-o-o-o

“I bloody hope you’re not gonna toss yourself over the edge.”

Lesley went rigid at the sound of Newt’s voice. Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder. He was sauntering across the rooftop with his hands in his pockets, a concerned expression on his face even as he threw a gentle, cautious smile her way.

She shook her head, her legs still swinging over the edge of the building. “No. Just needed some space to think.”

Newt sat down beside her, their knees knocking together. “Well, don’t give yourself a headache.” He held the blade out to her. “Here,” he said. “Thought you might want this back.”

Lesley flinched away from the weapon. “I don’t think I trust myself with it now.”

There was the soft thud of another set of footsteps. Thomas emerged out onto the rooftop, looking just as worried as he approached, and Lesley swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears burned her eyes, her throat painfully tight. “What I said, what I did - that was out of line. I shouldn’t have - I couldn’t control -”

“Les?” Newt called, his voice barely audible, the barest tremor to it. Quiet terror flashed across his features, so fast she almost missed it. _Almost_.

Her heart sank; he’d figured it out.

She exhaled shakily. “I guess I can’t hide this anymore,” she whispered. “It’s all the way up to my shoulder now.”

Her hands visibly trembling, she tugged up her sleeve, revealing the dark black and blue veins smothering her arm, angry and pulsing. Her skin had turned so pallid it was almost translucent against the poison.

Newt’s expression crumpled, his eyes burning.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Thomas asked, his voice cracking as he lowered himself onto the ledge beside her. “Les?”

Lesley shrugged. “It wasn’t going to change anything, so I didn’t think it would matter,” she said bitterly. “The chances of dying trying to get Minho back are probably so shucking high anyway. You two saw that tunnel; what’s one more monster to deal with?”

Newt shook his head, carefully running his hand down her forearm, the infected skin ragged and bumpy beneath his palm. He fought not to flinch. “Don’t _ever_ think like that,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting her own as his fingers moved to tightly grip hers. “Of _course_ it matters. And whether you’re immune or not, _you_ matter.”

Lesley huffed. “Debatable.”

“No, Newt’s right,” Thomas said softly, his features strained. “You know we can still fix this, Les. Okay? We can.”

“There’s no cure; we all know that.” Lesley shook her head adamantly. “It’s just ... _worse_ that it was all a shucking experiment right from the start. The fact that I wouldn’t have survived out there anyway but they still threw me in the Maze, the Creators know why.” She suddenly gave a hysterical laugh, waving her free hand. “Shucking almighty, what am I on about? They _are_ the Creators!”

A mad light flickered dangerously in her eyes. Panicking, Newt brushed his thumb over her knuckles, keeping the motion as soothing as he could. He glanced nervously at Thomas.

Thomas cleared his throat, shoving down his guilt. _He had helped put them there_. “Hey, but otherwise we wouldn’t have met you, Les,” he said, his voice pained. “And we’re grateful for that. I just wish you knew _how_ much.”

Newt nodded in agreement. “And all those bloody shenanigans back in the Glade?” he pressed. “We had a lot of fun together, alright? It wasn’t all for nothing.” He ducked his head to see Lesley’s face. “And we wouldn’t have changed it for the world.”

Lesley made no verbal indication that she’d heard them, but Newt and Thomas breathed a collective sigh of relief as the tension began to disappear from her shoulders.

“The Glade ...” Thomas’s jaw slackened, his eyes widening in realisation. “Shit. It’s the same infection pattern as a Griever sting.”

Newt’s gut clenched as he saw the faces of lost Gladers in his mind’s eye; the madness, the screams he knew would haunt him forever, the slam of the Doors closing on those they Banished. Suddenly, he knew Thomas was right; the Flare was a far more advanced display of the same symptoms. _How had they missed it?_

“ _Sting_.” Lesley gave a bark of harsh laughter, the sound grating. “They injected us with the shucking _Flare_.” Another angry tear slipped down her cheek. “It all makes sense now. Those who survived the Changing were immune, but the others who went crazy and lost their minds ...”

“Ben,” Thomas whispered, his throat tightening.

Newt’s thoughts stuttered in realisation. “George.”

Thomas turned his head so fast his neck hurt, his eyes wide. _Brenda’s brother - they had been wrong -_

Lesley nodded. “They weren’t immune. _We_ weren’t immune. We were just control subjects in their stupid _tests_ ,” she spat. “Remember my tag? _The Variable_. I always thought it had something to do with being the first girl, but maybe ... maybe it was something worse.” She bristled. “They let me go back at the Right Arm camp, remember?”

Newt blinked. The words the soldier had yelled. “I remember.”

_“Leave her! She’s not one of the kids Doctor Paige wants!”_

Thomas’s brow creased in confusion, his gaze darting to Lesley’s arm as his thoughts stewed over the previous few days. “But, when did you get bitten?” he asked. The window of opportunity would have been so small, given how fast the disease spread. “Were there any Cranks on that last supply run? Or the -?”

Newt’s eyes widened. “The checkpoint tunnel?”

Thomas felt his stomach drop. Too much had been happening, he might have missed -

Lesley tensed, inhaling sharply. “That’s the worst part,” she whispered. “I didn’t.”

Newt swallowed hard. “It’s airborne,” he realised. Lesley nodded.

_Minho sighed, shattering the pained silence that had settled over the group. “I thought we were supposed to be immune,” he said quietly._

_Lesley stared into the depths of the fire, swallowing hard. “Not all of us, I guess.”_

_Newt exhaled shakily, glancing at her. “If Winston can get infected, we should assume so can the rest of us.”_

They could never have predicted just how right they had been that night in the Scorch, the words burned into their memories. Even now, the last moments of Winston’s life were still fresh in their minds, as if his death had happened mere days - rather than _months_ \- earlier. It was a horrifying precedent of things to come.

“If it’s airborne, it would’ve found me no matter where I went,” Lesley said quietly. “I guess pack immunity only lasts so long.”

It had occurred to her that Brenda had kissed her when she had been in the early stages of infection, months before at the Crank party. Perhaps back then the victim had to be bitten outright to become infected, and the virus had since mutated into something far more contagious. Of course, there was the matter of adults like Vince, who almost certainly didn’t have any kind of immunity running through their veins - yet being surrounded by so many who could resist the disease had protected them in some way.

But not all of them.

Thomas swallowed thickly. “How long have you known?”

Lesley grimaced, her gaze suddenly distant. “Remember my little incident in the supply shed, a few days before we hit the train?”

Newt shook his head slowly, the puzzle pieces falling into place. “Bloody hell, Les,” he uttered softly, the words barely audible but filled with a terror that crept into every crevice in his body. His mind was doing cartwheels, a vicious loop in his head: _the Flare, the Flare, the Flare_ -

And the sudden weight in his chest, the understanding of why WCKD had been so desperate to find a cure. Standing on the other side of things, he now realised that Teresa maybe, just maybe, had a point; he couldn’t agree with her methods, but hell, what he wouldn’t have given to have a serum in his hand right at that moment.

“My arm was itching something awful, and when I pulled up my sleeve to look ... well, you know what happened after that.” Lesley gave a shuddering breath, her grip on Newt’s hand so tight it verged on painful. “This isn’t how I wanted it to happen,” she bit out, her voice wavering dangerously. “I wanted to be the one to decide when I was going to tell you, but the shucking Flare stole that decision from me!” she all but screamed.

Newt and Thomas sat there in shocked silence as her voice echoed eerily off the concrete around them, both of them taken aback. Newt’s eyes burned with tears.

Her chest heaving, Lesley swallowed thickly, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “All this time, running the Maze, through the Scorch ... and yet I couldn’t outrun the Flare.” She laughed bitterly. “There’s nowhere for me to run now.”

For a long moment, the only sound to be heard was the soft whistle of the wind around them, the gentle breeze ruffling their hair and clothes.

His eyes darting to Thomas, Newt fought to keep himself together. Beneath the anger, beneath the fury at the hand the world had so callously dealt her, he could suddenly see how _frightened_ Lesley was. And the thought that she had shouldered it alone this whole time -

_Wait._

“Brenda?” Thomas asked, reaching the same conclusion.

Lesley nodded. “It was our secret; she knew how important it was to keep it quiet.” She choked out a laugh. “I could already picture the mob rising up to get the Crank out of their camp.”

“You’re not -” Newt started.

“I am,” Lesley growled. “Let’s face it. Even Lawrence could tell, right off the bat.”

Quiet fell again.

Now Thomas understood; Lawrence had caught a glimpse of the shifting darkness, the mad light in her eyes long before the rest of them had. He wondered why he hadn’t outed her then and there. Maybe he did have a shred of honour after all.

Newt ran a hand through his hair. “You never had any intention of getting on that ship,” he said. A statement, not a question.

Lesley shook her head resignedly. “I wasn’t going to risk anyone else.”

Thomas swallowed audibly. “Would you have said anything?” he asked quietly.

Lesley snorted. “What, and risked the both of you ripping apart the entire camp looking for me?”

Newt choked out a laugh. “Shouldn’t have expected anything different, Les,” he said fondly, but his eyes were incredibly sad.

Her throat suddenly tight, Lesley’s smile faded. “But, in all honesty ... I’m not sure I would have,” she whispered. “When we didn’t - didn't get Minho off the train, I decided I was gonna go after him. Leave at dawn; use what little time I had left to find him.” She shook her head. “But here we are, I guess.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Brenda said I should’ve told you when I first found out, but I was scared you’d push me away.”

There was a long moment of silence. “We would’ve kept you around, you know?” Thomas tried. “We’re immune - at least, as far as I know.”

“But I can still _hurt_ you,” Lesley bit out. “As I just displayed so spectacularly with the knife back there.” A heavy sigh. “It just... _twists_ things, messes with my judgement. I just wanted to get to Minho, and my thoughts kinda ... well ...”

“Spiralled,” Thomas finished. Newt had an uncomfortably knowing look on his features.

Lesley nodded. “I guess emotions don’t mix well with the Flare. But, for the record, I’m not about to go rabid at the sight of _her_ either,” she joked weakly. “Or, at least, I hope not.”

Neither boys laughed. Newt’s grip on her hand tightened. “We’re gonna do what we can, alright?” he told her firmly. He pointed in the direction of the wall. “When we storm WCKD, we’ll raid whatever serum stores they have, prototypes or not. Rob ‘em bloody blind. It’ll buy us some time while we sort this out.”

Something shifting in her eyes, Lesley’s expression suddenly twisted with determination. “I’m not the priority here. This is about _Minho_ ; it has been right from the moment they took him. WCKD or bust, remember?” She coughed weakly. “He _needs_ us, and we have to do whatever it takes to get him out of that shucking place. We’re not leaving him behind again, you hear me?”

Thomas squeezed her shoulder, nodding. “Yeah,” he whispered, the barest tremble to his voice. “Yeah, we hear you.”

“But what do _you_ need right now, Les?” Newt asked quietly. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Hmm?”

Sniffling quietly, Lesley pulled her sleeve down. “Just hold me,” she begged. “Please?”

Thomas swallowed thickly. “You know you don’t have to ask for that,” he choked out, wrapping an arm around Lesley’s shoulders and pulling her against his side. He exhaled shakily against her hair. “We’ll figure this out, Les. I promise.”

But as her head fell onto Thomas’s shoulder, the three of them staring up at the silent, menacing wall rising towards the sky, Lesley couldn’t help but wonder if tonight was going to be the last sunset she would ever see.

o-o-o-o-o

“They know?” Brenda asked.

Her eyes shining with tears, Lesley stared at her for a moment, her bottom lip shaking, before finally nodding.

A choked gasp tearing from her throat, Brenda rushed forward and hauled her into a fierce hug, crushing Lesley against her in an embrace that momentarily seemed to shield her from the horrors of the world. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered.

Lesley’s torso spasmed with sobs as she clutched at Brenda. “I tried, Bren,” she choked out. “I _tried_ -”

“I know, I know, shh -”

“Newt?”

At the soft, barely audible call of his name, Newt turned his head to look at Gally, who was staring at him with a questioning look in his eyes. Swallowing thickly, he nodded.

Gally’s expression immediately crumpled; beside him, Frypan gripped the edge of the table, a wretched look of devastation sweeping across his face. The lines on Jorge’s face deepened, a dark shadow crossing his features and ageing him by another ten years.

Thomas reached out and squeezed Newt’s shoulder, and Newt got the distinct impression that he was struggling to remain upright.

_Because they had all thought Brenda was the last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> ALRIGHT. Long notes for this chapter!! (And I managed to sneak the title in this one hehe)
> 
> There are more than a few similarities to the scene in the Death Cure film, but I hope you liked the changes I made. I wanted to expand more on the characteristics of the disease, and also how it connected to them back in the Glade - why some of them made it through the Changing, and also why the Sting effects looked so similar to the Flare! I feel a lot of it is implied in the movies, so I wanted to make it a *canon* statement - in these fics at least haha. (I'm using the excuse of "they were so shellshocked after the Maze, and they usually encountered people past the Gone" as to why they didn't put two and two together earlier)
> 
> And it felt AWESOME tying in the bit about Lesley’s WCKD tag (Ready to Run, chapter 17) - a little note that I have been sitting on for oVER A YEAR :”D I uploaded that chapter Jan 2nd last year, and it was so so good FINALLY adding that in! So yeah, variable = “a factor that can be manipulated, controlled for, or measured.” Lesley was one of the non-immune subjects WCKD could draw comparisons to.
> 
> Lesley is generally always calmed down by touch - that’s what keeps her grounded. Newt recognises that, and utilises it a lot, hence all the platonic handholding he and Les do. He’s trying to assure her she’s not a monster; she’s still their Les and they’re frightened for her, not OF her.  
> Newt and Lesley are also really close because he was the first person she ever trusted in the Glade. It makes my heart want to burst thinking about that, actually.
> 
> Also yes I am aware that Lesley’s Flare progression is much slower to that of Brenda and Winston’s, and I will be touching on that in future chapters! However, now that she’s been outed (so to speak), it’s going to be a much faster descent into madness from here.  
> The airborne side of things is only mentioned in conversation between Janson and Ava Paige, but I wanted to add it in here. Plus another little throwback to their words in Ready to Run!
> 
> This chapter gave me a bit of a headache trying to wrangle all the facts together, haha. Hilariously, I had to fix my own plot hole - two, actually! Since Lesley and Brenda kissed in the last fic, and the story about Brenda’s brother as well in chapter 26. Anyway, I know herd immunity isn't foolproof, but it works in the context of this story.
> 
> Once again thank you so much for reading, please feel free to let me know your thoughts down in the comments!! :”D Thank you for all your kudos and support, and as always keeping me bloody inspired <3


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